Sweet November

I met Penny when I was in my early teens. We had mutual friends and we saw each other often at parties and get togethers. She was quiet and thoughtful, laughed occasionally but was inclined towards the serious. I considered her a distant friend who was easy to talk to but I never missed her when she wasn't there.

She moved away during college and I saw her on rare occasions through my twenties. We shared our updated life's stories, had a drink or two, and parted as friends. We both stayed single and I think that made us become a little closer as all our friends got married.

I met Jon in my early 30's. We quickly became drinking buddies and had some intense times together. On the surface Jon seemed like your classic happy go lucky kind of guy, but after knowing him for a while he opened up, and I found he had a lot of depth. He also was single and we both talked a lot about finding the right person.

We had come to the conclusion that we might never find 'the one', and I think both of us were expecting to be single for the rest of our life. We were both witnessing our friends who had gotten married earlier starting to have marital problems and divorces, and being a lifelong single was starting to seem pretty attractive. We joked about that a lot, but underneath I know we were feeling pretty lonely.

In my mid-30's a group of friends chartered a day cruise, and Penny and I spent most of the time at the rail drinking spiked hot chocolate and talking. We agreed on most everything, and it was still really easy to talk to her. She was attractive in her own way and I enjoyed being around her. I kept thinking about asking her out but never did. I think she even joked about it, but neither of us took it seriously.

The next time I heard from Jon and Penny was at a summer camping trip. They showed up late, arm in arm. They had accidentally met each other for the first time a month or so earlier and they had been inseperable ever since.

They were married soon after and every time I saw them they were together and happy. They were always aware of each other, sharing looks or hanging out together. It was truly beautiful.

After a couple of years of marriage, Penny was diagnosed with breast cancer. I saw her often during this period, and she and Jon were always smiling, first when the news was grim and then even more so when it looked like Penny had caught it in time. She lost her breasts but their love seemed to just take that in stride.

Their marriage went on, and as Penny was approaching her five years clear of cancer, it reappeared. This time the cancer spread fast, and on a November day when the wind was howling and the snow was coming down in sheets, I got the word that Penny had died.

I drove in terrible weather the 150 miles to where they had lived and Penny had died. There was a memorial service that night, and when Jon got up to talk, he was still smiling. He said "I am the luckiest person on Earth because I have had these years with Penny. She taught me how to be happy regardless of what happens. She gave me true joy just by loving me and being with me. She showed me how to give of myself, and she taught me how to love. She is the best person I've ever known".

He turned to the casket and the smile he gave was so full of love and affection there wasn't anyone in the room who didn't feel it.

I sat dumbfounded, shocked that a love that deep could exist. It made me feel like I was the one who was suffering a loss and Jon was the lucky one.

Jon married again a few years later. He told me he and Penny had talked about it, and he knew that that is what she wanted for him.

After all this time, I now know how Jon could lose Penny and still feel he was the luckiest person on earth. I've recently met someone I feel that way about, but will probably never have the chance to be with romantically, and still I feel blessed...

... and to Penny - I miss our friendship, and I think of you often...

Charlie Brown

I'm reliving a nightmare. Everywhere I turn there are these statues. Oh my god, the statues!

I'm in my early 40's. I thought I had worked through all this - the impossible body image, the need to fail, the impossible to duplicate wardrobe...

Thousands of hours spent reading Charlie Brown comics and watching him on TV. Who wouldn't be influenced?

I managed to duplicate the big head and the triangular body, but the three finger thing just wasn't doable. Maybe ebay will have one of his sweaters!

Oh, how I wish I had just played with Barbies!

Fuzzball

A while back, while detailing some of the reasons that I believe I am ruled by fate, I stated I didn't have a clue about fate's mechanism. While it is true that I don't have a clue, I do have a theory...

I think the universe is completely static, with the exception of the thing we call 'consciousness' or maybe 'soul'. At every moment in time, every possible path you can take already exists.

This is analogous to driving along a road and coming to an intersection. Your being at the intersection doesn't spontaneously generate the existing roads, they exist independently of you. You do have the choice of which road to take, and this will ultimately govern all your future choices.

It wouldn't surprise me if this happened at the quantum level, where every possibly interaction outcome exists at differing levels of probability. It also isn't relevant to my discussion of fate, so I'll just stop digressing now.

If you assume that all possible 'future' paths already exist at the point that you are deciding which path to take, then it becomes theoretically possible that you can somehow 'sense' the desirability of each path and choose the one that will get you where you want to go, much like being at the intersection in the road in my earlier example. The more you know about the branching 'paths', the more likely you are to get where you want to be.

I think this is why fate seems to be playing such games with me. I think that somehow a part of me can sense the 'directions' of the paths available to me, and that part is leading me to all the extremely unlikely events that have become a part of my life.

I'm now trying to 'enhance' the process by paying more attention to the subtle little feelings I have when I'm at a decision point. Whatever part it is (assuming it exists), does not communicate very directly and sometimes my brain overrides my gut feeling. I've come to believe that when this happens I usually end up unhappy with the outcome.

This is a pretty unfleshed out theory at present. What do you think? Does anyone know of anything that supports it?

A little dab did me

I'm tired today, stressed from all the thanks I gave yesterday. Presumably this tiredness contributed to the inattention that caused me to pour coffee over the 'Breathe Deep' tea bag happily hanging in my mug.

The inattentiveness lingered long enough for me to set the mug near my right hand while I worked, and during a momentary pause in typing, I reached out and took a huge gulp.

It was appallingly bad. It was toxic. It caused my stomach to gyrate elvis-like. It was so terrible I couldn't believe it. So I took another gulp - not a small one.

Again the lurch, and I finally got what I had done. So, did I immediately stumble to my feet and pitch the puling contents out the window?

No, I set the mug back down, shook my head, and went back to work. And about 20 minutes later, with no thought whatsoever, I took another gulp.

This time I did leap up, burst out the door, and with an elvis-like slash of my arm I sent the t-offee sparkling into the wind.

I hope it evaporates before it kills a duck.

Moonshadow

The sky was November gray when I left my office for my hike last night. The gray crept inside as I drove, until I felt only depression at the upcoming walk.

I endured the 30 degree north wind on my bare flesh as I changed into nylon and fleece, then set out on the trail, poles clacking and hissing in the darkening twilight.

I walked gaze down for several miles, looking up only once to see three deer bound up what looked like a vertical valley wall. My soul brightened for a while but then faded back to gray.

A shadow formed, catching my attention, and I looked up to see a three quarter moon dancing in the clouds.

In time the sky cleared and all turned pearl, and I strode through a wonderland of silhouettes and ghostly ground.

I found the star of my desire, wrapped it in my soul, and made wishes and gave thanks for all that has happened to me.

Unbreakable hug

I allowed TB to give me a hug goodbye the other day. I usually avoid this as it is already hard enough to control my feelings towards her. She is going away for a couple of weeks to do something very hard and hopefully quite fulfilling. It is not without it's psychological dangers and I am a little worried about that. I have great faith in her mental and personal resources, but she is a little nervous and that affects me. Regardless, I am very impressed with what she is doing and wish her everything good.

We had talked about her journey and I think the nervousness prompted her to ask me for a hug. It was wonderful! I wish I could do it all the time. Unfortunately the connection that is between us seemed strengthened and I could not get her off my mind. Sometimes this weekend, in moments of internal peace, I felt like she was talking to me. The talk is different from the frequent mental dialogues I carry on with other people. It's more conversational and less 'me'.

I have never felt this way about anyone. I've had several relationships, some very intense, but this goes beyond all of them. I feel she is an integral part of me - that in some way she completes me and makes me better than I've ever been before.

Her conversation satisfies me in the way no one else ever has been able to. I love to hear her thoughts on anything, and long after she has left I ponder what she has said. Her laughter thrills me, and her humor sticks with me and I find myself laughing as I recall the moment.

When we were hugging our cheeks touched, and I said something in a voice throaty with emotion. I can't recall what I said, although I don't think it was significant. What I was really saying was "I love you".

Sexual cross

A week ago I noted that TB had given me a lot to think about, which is always the case when we talk. One of the things that came out was that I was feeling male for the first time in my life - normally I feel pretty androgynous. TB commented that she felt that way too, which yet again made me feel connected and accepted, something I'd never had before meeting TB.

At any rate, this trail led to my theory of sexuality, which I had never really thought through until discussing it with TB. Here it is...

Asexuality is at the bottom. I think this is truly unhealthy for those who practice it, although maybe the lack of sexual expression frees up resources for other things - maybe not. If anyone reads this who is asexual, I would love to hear of benefits!

Monosexuality is up a notch - I think this can be pretty darn fun when you have a good imagination or a good internet connection, and it's pretty hard to fault the convenience.

Heterosexuality and homosexuality I place at the same level. Both are with partners, and I think that is healthy and gratifying in a way that being alone lacks. Two can be twice as creative as one, and great sex (and great living) is all about creativity.

Bisexuality is at the top of my sexual tree. I think this is the ultimate in sexual expression. I think that love, which for me is always a component of sex, should not be bounded by gender.

That all said, I've never been with a man, and I have always believed it was because I had been conditioned against it. There is something aesthetically displeasing about the image of two men that has held me back. It is probably just not meant to be for me.

A fellow mystic

The Mystic Pig
	I asked the mystic pig: are you a pig and the mystic pig said: Naahh Ask the Mystic Pig another question created by ixwin

Who Links Here

Kindred spirit

I just ran into this blog, and especially liked this post.

"In Silence, There Is A Whisper"

California dreaming

I noticed some birders with enormous lensed cameras (overcompensating, no doubt) whilst driving lakeside, and I stopped to ask them what they were looking at. Unlike all my prior birder interactions, these gents were gruff. Their first answer to my "Wadda ya lookin at?" was "Rare birds". I managed to stifle my "Duh!", and replied "What is the name of the rare bird?" with my shy but engaging smile. They looked at me askance for a moment (possibly visualizing an enormous lens divot in my head) and replied "California Gulls". Then they hurriedly packed up and scurried to their car. I gazed across a half mile of lake at the little white dots floating on the dark gray water and wondered what a California Gull might actually look like, and not having any advanced optics I resolved to look them up on the internet sometime.

This morning I made my rounds of the two blogs I read religiously, and unbelievably one of them had several pictures of California Gulls taken yesterday in Idaho. Apparently they are quite common there.

Synchronicity - you just can't beat it!

Our lady of sorrows

I woke on Sunday morning with the intent of finding an apartment. My wife and I had climaxed our emotional cycle with a completely insane unhappy 'argument' on Saturday evening, and I just don't think I can take it anymore. But Sunday night we made love and were all nice to each other, and the cycle started again.

If my son weren't in the picture, I'd be gone now. I love my stepson, but he seems to have grown a lot closer to his dad recently and he doesn't seem to need or want me much anymore. It doesn't seem worth going through this rotating traversal of heaven and hell. This time the cycle took all of two weeks.

I've made it this far by walling myself off from my wife and everything else, but I don't want to live that way anymore. There is too much in this world that is worth experiencing and loving.

'Argument' is in quotes above, because in this case, I just lay there stunned as my wife worried about losing her breasts, losing her parents, and losing me. Only one of those worries is at all likely. At some point, I think I said 'There just isn't any point to this - can you please just try to be happy', at which point I was verbally raked over the coals.

I'm sorry I hurt my wife by gaining a lot of weight, and I'm sorry we have nothing to build a relationship on. We only get along when we are having sex, which we have a reasonable amount of. I feel vaguely guilty about that, which is ridiculous.

A part of me wishes my wife would find someone she could be deliriously in love with - someone she could share all her beliefs with. Someone who could endure her worries, or maybe even alleviate them. I would love to see her happy.

And me free.

Shadowtime

I walked last night in my usual fashion, just being part of the motion and the surroundings, allowing my feet and feelings to choose each intersection.

I had taken a path I haven't taken in many years, and had paused for a moment while descending a ravine to look at the just risen crescent moon, when I heard a buck snort behind me. I turned and looked up the side of the ravine, and there at the very top, silhouetted against the very dark sky, were a doe and a buck. The buck was about 6 feet behind the doe, and their heads were turned towards me. I remained motionless and thought about invisibility, and after a bit the buck ambled forward and looked as if he nuzzled the doe along her neck. It was such an exquisite moment, and I was filled with romance. They moved off together as if they were one being, disappearing over the ridge line.

I remained still for a moment, then ambled my way along to my car and drove the long way home to an excited little boy and compulsively frowning wife.

It's big today! Yayyy!!!

My son's comment on the waterfall when we rounded the corner and first saw it. I've seen this waterfall dozens of time, and my son's excitement still infected me, and I Yayyyy'd right along with him.

Yayyyy!!!

Highlighting the boy

I strapped my son on my back on Sunday and we went for a walk. The day was classic November, gray and short. The air was crisp and had a hint of the frost that still lingered in the shade. The grass in the meadows shown mostly tan with an occasional yellow highlight flickering in an errant ray of sun.

My son talked of pine and birch and waterfalls, and on the drive home he simply said "I had a really nice time today" in his little three year old voice.

There is beauty and love in this world.

Suo Loco

The water was high today, and he had to walk a ways down the creek before crossing on a fallen tree he had noticed last week. He thought about walking a little further to see if the kestrels he had heard earlier were revisiting their nest, but he didn't want to miss the chance for a shared sunset. It had been a mostly gray November and the need for dramatic beauty was strong.

He scrambled up the worn path to the house, slipping into the basement and pausing a moment to look at his pots drying on the rack. He squinted over at his wife's half of their shared workbench but couldn't figure out in the dark what she was working on. She would tell him tomorrow when they had time to be down here together, sharing the warmth of the kiln and each other.

He could hear her upstairs puttering around the kitchen and knew she had continued working on the dinner after he had left it to make his afternoon rounds of the creek. He could smell the bread baking and closed his eyes, happily remembering all the failed attempts while they experimented with recipes, looking for meals they could eat together.

With his eyes closed he could feel her presence and he was sure she knew he was here. He felt excitement, anticipating the happiness on her face when he told her about the kestrels. They could hike down that way tomorrow, and she could continue to teach him about the fall herbs she was collecting.

He continued up the stairs and, quietly coming into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. He knew from the way she moved that she wasn't surprised. He breathed her scent deeply and she asked "What did you see today?".

He took her hand and led her into the living room, looking out the windows that stretched across the entire south face of the house. The sun was melting into the horizon, the lower edge spreading out and pooling like molten gold. Wisps of clouds slowly brightened, turned coppery, bringing the light blue sky into sharp contrast. The bare trees on the far side of the valley traced inky lines across the spreading red, and they stood together, arm in arm, feeling a part of it all, a part of each other.

He turned towards her, kissing her deeply, then leaned back from the waist and finally answered "I didn't see anything, but I heard some kestrels down the creek. Would you like to go there tomorrow? Maybe do some collecting?". She smiled at the thought of them hiking together, and pictured his face as it showed the joy he always felt when walking with her by their beloved creek.

The doorbell rang, and she turned to answer it. He slid into the kitchen and started getting the food ready. She knew he needed a little longer than she to get used to company, even with friends they had known for years.

The talk went on for hours, starting with dinner and progressing to a fire lit living room with everyone contemplating the stars through the windows. Their friends were an eclectic bunch, thoughtful and imaginative, and the topics ranged from spirituality to astronomy with some anthropology on the side. They shared a commitment to growth and discovery, and there was always something new to talk about. Slowly the friends said their goodbyes as tiredness and duty sent them on their way.

He was a little wired after the final goodbye and felt the same energy in her. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a kiss, lingering and soft. He ran his hands along her rib cage and felt her press herself to him. She took his hand and they walked together to their bedroom. After all this time she still excited him beyond any measure. Their lovemaking was a symphony, sometimes slow and passionate, other times hard and demanding. They moved together with long familiarity, with a sense of each other that went well beyond words.

Spent, they molded together, looking out the skylight at the stars dimmed by the crescent moon. The pale light washed over them and she felt herself spread out, touch his warm presence behind her. She thinned further, visiting the places they had made love in their travels, the deserts and mountain forests and remote river valleys, felt the sparks of their friends and looked forward to visiting them again. She sensed the house around her, loving what they had created but knowing that home, the true home she had always looked for, was him, and with that she stroked his arm, gently kissed his hand, and fell asleep.

Sleeping excitedly

There is a spring in my step and a song in my heart! I slept last night and I'm about 20 years younger. I have an infinitude of theories all of them equally improbable. It doesn't matter.

When I lay down my head was full of new directions for thought. I had a wonderful talk with TB last night - she is quick to understand my often disjointed style of talking and her creative and diverse thinking is exciting and provocative. If I would change anything, it would be that I SHUT UP once in a while and let her talk more. I'll have to work on that - it's hard when I am so elevated, I tend to babble.

... I think I need to let the new thoughts stew a little bit. Things are still a bit raw...

Driven by spirit

When I have a choice of where to walk, I purposefully decide not to decide - I know, hopeless mumbo-jumbo. What this means is that in the time leading up to the walk, I think something like "I'm going for a walk tonight" and then clear my mind of everything. Sometimes the destination becomes readily apparent as the feeling of a place manifests itself in my consciousness. Other times nothing becomes clear and I'll simply get in the car and try to sense how I feel as I come to intersections.

At any rate, last night I had the strongest hankering to go to a very specific park - there was absolutely never any doubt, and so I was astounded when I got there to find that the normally quiet and empty ski resort that abutts the park was screaming jets of snow into the air. The cacophony was overwhelming and my stomach twisted in stress. There was no alternative park that I could reasonably get to and I still felt that this was the place to be, so I set off on my walk, wilting at the disruption of my beloved solitude.

The ski resort is contained in a valley, and when I had gotten a bit over a mile away the noise was no longer intrusive. The sun set, a subtle shading of dusky orange backlighting bony trees way off on the horizon, and then slowly the stars popped out.

I made my wish for WV, and then for lifelong happiness for my wife and children, and then I wished that TB could see me completely - every thought I have, every feeling I've experienced, every dimension of my soul. ...I added a clause that this only come true if it would make TB happy (somewhere inside me there is a lawyer that needs exterminating). This latter wish had power and I could feel it spread out from my presence. I have no idea if it will affect TB, but it certainly affects me.

I angled along the edges of a prairie on a plateau above a river. The owls were hooting and I could hear the little noises of animals bedding down in the grass. My view stretched for miles and as the sun set fully I could easily make out the 5 brightest stars of the Pleiades. My eyes had fully adjusted to the dark and I was striding along, enjoying the heavens and the feel of the earth. My path circled until I was facing back towards the ski resort and much to my horror I found they had turned on all their lights, several of which were shining right in my eyes. Even miles away it completely wiped out my night vision and I was dismayingly blind.

I decided to loop down to a section of the park where I rarely go, as the path descends a ravine and then curves to follow the river and during the summer this path is largely cut off from everything because of the density of foliage. This is not true in November and I had stunning views of the river and the sky. Again, fate had not played me false.

I walked the several miles back to the car enjoying the below freezing air and moving briskly to keep my now sweat soaked clothing from turning to ice. The path rounded a corner and as I climbed a valley wall to get to my car the noise from the ski resort began to build. At my car I could look down into the ski valley and it was lovely in a mechanistic way, with the bright lights illuminating the jets of snow and mist.

I took my jacket off and then removed my shirt, twisting my head up to slide the shirt over my glasses. My glasses fogged momentarily and when they cleared I could see a ghostly crescent illuminated high above the ski valley.

I blinked in disbelief, and as the crescent floated closer I realized it was an enormous flock of pale birds flying high in the night. When they passed directly overhead I heard the birds calling and the loony flute and trumpet sound made me think of cranes. The beauty of it swept me away and it was only the freezing of my naked upper half that pulled me back.

I am so constantly rewarded by trusting in fate - this is a recent realization for me, and it has brought great hope for my future and great joy to my present...

Smoke

The pre-dawn sun lightened the sky enough to see a narrow trail of solid clouds slicing it's way from the east off to the southwest. The sun was splashing orange from below and it looked for all the world like the sun was violently blowing fiery smoke across the sky.

While driving lakeside the mirrored image was gray and mysterious and I drove quietly in beauty.

When I got to work I realized I had my camera at hand, and it would have been only a seconds pause to catch the moment if it had ever occured to me.

Flight of fantasy

Sometimes, when I'm really happy, I find my arms will rise up and become wings to soar on. They'll do some lazy flaps, and then I'll realize what has happened and I'll let them collapse while I look around nervously to see who has witnessed my fantasy flight.

I love the whole thing, even the embarrassed looking around. I tried to force myself into winging on my lunch today after watching a gull fly low across blue water, but it doesn't work unless it just happens.

The sun is low even at lunchtime, giving the sense of eternal late afternoon. It brought out the red in the reeds at the edge of the lake. The sky away from the sun was dark blue, providing a nice backdrop for the bare black trees, and the bright white gull floating in front of all this was stunning!

Crashday

My birthday friend, who I will now acronymize as WV, crashed on her birthday. Her husband and family completely failed her and now she is in a terrible funk. I don't know what to do, and as seems to be the case right now, I have limited options due to circumstances.

In the story I had written for her birthday I talked a lot about connected love and fate. I know in my life fate has played an overwhelming role, although I don't really have any understanding of the mechanism of fate - I just know that enormous coincidences seem to be playing the dominant role in my life.

I feel WV is feeling the sometimes cruel hand of fate, and I believe she is being rather forcefully thrust out of the nest she has long since outgrown. I hope she spreads her wings before she splats.

I'll wish on a star for her tonight, as the clouds have finally gone and with the temperature in the teens they will be brightly shining.

The age of deprivation

My eyes scrape and my muscles are cornflakes, crunchy and fragile. For no apparent reason I've not been able to sleep the last couple nights. I even tried my Melatonin to no avail - I was so hopeful after my last two Melatonin sleeps which were deep and blessed with dream appearances of my wondrous friend whom assured me that all would be well - I even received a friendly touch on my arm which still tingled when I awoke hours later. Perhaps it's the November gloom and the walking in the dark.

In a perfect world I would have spent the sleepless time puttering around with my wondrous friend, straightening up and doing the little things that always need doing, but that is not meant to be...

The appellation 'my wondrous friend' is grating through overuse. I think I need to come up with some initials since I'm realizing she is going to be a continuing topic. MWF smacks too much of ad acronyms, as does WF. I think she is a phenomenal person, but PP is not even remotely where I want to go. Hmmm... I also think she is the best person I've ever known - TBP? I don't like the P in any context, so TB it will be - 'The Best'!

My last two hikes were in large urban parks. The parks are both physically beautiful, with small lakes and nice woods and prairies, and I do enjoy the scenery. The incessant noise of the city creeps in, and the people I see do not acknowledge my presence, something that disturbs me mightily. When I'm more than a mile from the parking lot, all the people I see are jogging and most have headphones. They all appear to be focused completely inward, as if the pressure of nature threatens them. A very different feeling than my hikes in the remote parks.

That all said, my hike yesterday was done with my little boy in my backpack. With diapers and water bottles the pack comes to about 50 pounds, so it makes a significant difference in my hiking style - no floating for me! My little boy has been hiking with me for his entire life of 3 years, and he is a keen observer of nature and place and mood. He is a joy to be around, pointing out things that are beautiful and exciting (his words) and telling me how he feels about them. I have gone my whole life with only one deep connection to anyone (my grandmother), and now I've got a palpable feeling of sharing my soul with both TB and my son.

I have hiked only twice with TB, and neither time was it just she and me and my son. Even so it was wonderful to see her connecting with nature - I would so like to hike with her alone or with my son...

...I am so tired today I can't keep any sort of thread of thought going. I think I'll have to figure out some way to elevate my spirits...

Wondrous friend

Normally as I stroll through field and wood I indulge in reverie for a while and then I just go away - I become part of the beauty. I remember everything afterwards but never am thinking much as I walk. Running into people or pausing to take a photo brings me back to the world of thought, but eventually I go back to simply being.

I always thought it was the peacefulness of the empty parks I roam, but last nights walk gives me reason to wonder. I never entered that much desired state and I spent my time thinking thoughts of my wondrous friend. She is always with me but not always such an explicit focus.

I think at some level my wondrous friend is aware she is wondrous, and I think that at another level she is a little appalled that she can have such an egotistical belief, and at still another level she is saddened and a little frustrated that the world doesn't recognize her greatness.

She is an amazing person, and her parents didn't acknowledge her in ways that stuck. Part of her amazing pantheon of attributes is her sensitivity to place and mood. She is strongly affected by the feelings of others and this works against her in that she needs to withdraw a little to protect herself, and so she does not get noticed to the degree she should.

She is creative and kind and combined with her sensitivity this allows her to make those she meets feel blessed by her presence. She has a wonderful sense of beauty and both appreciates and creates beauty in large and small ways.

She is constantly working on improving herself, frequently in ways arcane to those who follow someone else's path. She always goes her own way – she is creative and original in thought and deed. Her depth astounds me. Everything about her is worth paying attention to.

I could go on and on (did I mention how funny she can be?), and I probably will. There are many who have changed my life, but no one has ever helped me to grow in spirit like she has, and I am forever grateful.

Celestial emergence

I did not get the needed boost to my soul from my walk last night, as there was no beauty to walk in. Darkness congealed within 15 minutes of saying goodbye to my car and gray clouds turned to black. I was able to walk the first 5 miles without using my headlamp because the trail was suitably worn and I could sense the center with my feet.

The trail eventually exited woods after climbing a long slope and started sidehilling through a remnant of tallgrass prairie. At that point I had to put the headlamp on as gravity kept curving me off the path, and the gophers had left traps all over the trail.

I've concluded gophers are secretly carnivorous or are otherwise pursuing some hidden agenda that requires the disabling of large klutzy wayfarers, and so I walked in the tiny universe illuminated by my lamp. For the record it is better to curse the darkness AND to light a candle. I don't believe in binary propositions...

This morning the clouds had dissipated and I was treated to a bright moon crescent with Jupiter and Venus dripping below. Driving in beauty works as well and I am somewhat restored.

Stone gray peaches

As predicted, I was not decorated with rain or snow or smoking from a long deserved lightning bolt. In fact, the day was quite nice in a frigid gray way - off to the south the sky was even an odd mixture of gray and peach which was an attractive adornment to the Novemberscape. I strode into the repair shop in high tech fleece and moisture control innerwear and impressed absolutely no one at all.

The day is dragging a little now, and I'm ready for quitting time, unfortunately more than an hour away. The times being displayed with my posts are pretty odd, but I'm OK with it. Oddness abounds around here.

I think I'll shut up now, as even I can't suppress the yawns and I'm writing this!

Connections

I am overwhelmed with emotion over the connections that have formed in my life. It started with a blog from a writer way up northwest of me, expressing his thoughts on the election. I have a twisted connection with this person and will probably meet him some day, and so to have him echo my own thoughts was profound and I send him my thanks for the banishment of the loneliness I've felt in this election period.

It continued whilst reading another blog, again oddly connected to me and the prior writer. Her expression of her connection to nature and to places I love and have traveled is buoying me up and giving me some relief from the urban climes I currently inhabit. I thank her too, and hope to meet her someday.

I received a note back from my birthday friend, and it was so over the top positive that I found myself crying and trembling (and I'm still trembling). I didn't realize how much I'd invested in my story, and how much I needed approval. This connection is at least direct, and I've sent my thanks and will continue to do so.

My wondrous friend is responsible for all these connections. In truth, it is her spirit that has birthed the new me, and there is more than a little of her essence in my being.

Trembling in wonderment and joy, I'll give my thanks as well to anyone who is reading this.

Sunsneak

The dark lessened somewhat to reveal a sullen sky to the east and overt threat to the west. Maybe it will snow today, although I'm guessing it will tend towards sleet. I've committed to a couple mile walk through urban landscapes to pick up my ailing car and I've got all my high tech hiking gear arrayed in my office in expectations of the worst.

I do this walk every time my car needs repair, and I relish the looks of the repair people when I stride up dripping or coated with frost. The weather always cooperates by serving up it's ugliest. Of course, having written that today will turn out perfectly lovely...

I've sent my first short story to a friend as a birthday present, at her request. It's occasionally pornographic, although primarily it's a story about truly connected love, something that I actually know about in more than a theoretical way. I think that will have to be a topic for another post, as the step in the hall demands I get back to work!

Progressions

At the beginning there was a fortress where I hid and repelled all who came near. At times it seemed I was encysted, walling myself off to prevent further injury. Now the metaphor that seems most apt is a cocoon or an egg. In either case, I feel like I'm creating a whole new me - the shell or cocoon or shield or walls or whatever you want to call the excess flesh I buried myself in now feels separate. I feel like I can face the world directly, or at least the new body I feel growing underneath this fleshy drape of clothes will be able to face the world directly.

I can run my hands down my body now, feel the cords and taut muscle, feel the animal urge rise up, bigger than I remember, more potent. I've lost only half the weight I need to lose, but the rest will go as easily as the first.

There is nothing normal here.

My walk today started out frustrated - the place I wanted to walk was closed for hunting, and I had to go an additional 15 miles to a place both rugged and big enough to fill my needs. As always fate led me to what I needed. The hike progressed upwards along cracked black stone - a jumble of house sized boulders that I threaded at a pace just short of a run. I was feeling pressed for time and the loss of half an hour spurred me to rush my walk.

The stone comforted me in ways I can't really tell and the dance of my feet as I hopped and scrambled from rock point to cracked ledge upward was an amazing physical sensation I'd long forgotten. My body and spirit were fully into the hike, and the intricacies of the footing pulled my mind into synch.

The apex of the climb overlooked a gorge with frothing river cutting below. The path angled back and followed the sheer edge for a ways before folding up to a secondary ridge a couple hundred feet higher. The wind was bitter cold and brought feelings of connection with a wondrous friend. I floated through the hike, finishing the 6 miles in an hour and a half. All the leaves are on the ground exposing endless scenes of rock and river and sky, and hiding the trail entirely.


A wonderful day hiking today.

Sunset and eggs

I snuck from work a bit early and managed to get in a quick 5 mile walk before heading into the city. The silence was only relative, but it helped me order my head and decide what to write here. The sun served up an awesome display of brushed cotton orange as it kissed the edge of the earth, and I realized as I walked into the sunset that I was growing a new body inside the shell of my old, and it's this transformation of both body and 'me' that I need to write about. Transforms should happen all the time, but ruts can trap, and I've been stuck in a descending track since I died more than 20 years ago....

Interesting. I'll have to think about that for a bit...