Look It Up

The few folks that I pass on these morning walks are out for exercise. Fresh air. I'm out for memories. Most of them are bittersweet- full of love, reminders of loss. Sometimes I'm sure that love lasts forever. Other times, even my memories have a gossamer quality.

Every other step or two still reminds me of her. It's been two years now. I talk to her every day. I don't even try to tell myself that she hears me. I do it for me.

Just before I got home today, a gardenia bush intruded my space from over a block wall. The glorious fragrance stays with me now reminding me of tales of Lottie. Oh, my- she loved her gardenia bush.

Look up romantic, noun. Now, google fool, noun. A fine line, no?

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Good Guys and Bad Guys, Soldiers and Saints

From here it looks to me like there are no good guys or bad guys. There are saints and there are the rest of us. 

The saints don't seem to judge. They just love.

They don't distinguish between myth and miracle and they don't quibble over verse and chapter while  living things suffer. Don't look to recruit the saints to your political side or expect them to support your war.

Give us peace on earth. Stay home if you can.

 

Untrained Hearts

All hearts are trained. Eventually. One way or another. 

Discretion was never my strong suit. I'll tell anybody anything. Ask me to keep a secret and I can. I will. Left to my own devices, though, nobody has to play the bad cop with me.

Ask me a question today and I'll give you a different answer than I gave you yesterday. I fancy myself a reasonably honest soul. I just change my mind a lot.

 

Love In The Time Of Corona

As the wails grow louder, closer, I find my heart opening wider. My head snaps between a day to celebrate birth and an acknowledged end to another precious life.

Joy is there for the picking like wild berries on the edge of the woods. The thorns, though. Watch the thorns.

Love? I may not know much but I love more than you'll ever understand.

Slippery When The Sun Shines

Remember the first time you saw a Mad Max movie? Seems like only yesterday that most of us had to scramble for a dictionary to check "dystopia." Come to think of it, do you know where your dictionary is?

Richard Florida and Stewart Brand pitched visions of a future that was, for the most part, pretty rosy. Of course we had Animal Farm and 1984, too. Oh yeah, Brave New World and A Clockwork Orange.

My generation had Paul Ehrlich and Rachel Carson laying a path for Greta Thunberg and other brave, articulate souls who just happen to notice that the emperor is naked.

Truth doesn't have anything to do with what your political party believes. It has no real relationship to the rituals of the church in which you were raised. No god worth the title is on any side in any war.

Truth just is.

If anybody had ever paid much attention to me, somebody would have probably killed me a long time ago. Fortunately, I preach to a small choir. All they do is kick me off FaceBook.

We can't do much hugging just now but there's no ration on love.

When My Blue Moon Turns To Green Cheese Again

Wasn't the moon a lot more romantic before Mr. Armstrong tracked in all that crud. Of course most of you don't remember. Sometimes the beauty is in the mystery. 

The lucky ones are well aware of how little they know. 

We communicate with words. Most of us do. We "think" in words. We dream in words. What about all of those words in other languages that have no direct equivalent in English or whatever language you generally speak? 

You won't find a language or a culture that doesn't have lots of words for what we call love. So many words, not enough love.

Made Up Words

Words are tools. Weapons, if you consider yourself a warrior. Don't take a thesaurus to a quilting bee or a ballerina to an orgy. This old world is gonna change more in the time that I have left than it has in all my time on watch duty.

I'm damned if I do and well-hung if I don't, if I say so myself.

Is it just me or if they mail everybody a thousand bucks, haven't they just got ol' zero a new suit of clothes?

Wouldn't it be grand if the Marx Brothers were around and working on a new movie?

Wash your hands before you self-immolate.