Each time the sun rises and I see the detail of natural surroundings, everything meticulously attended to and immediately available to my senses, and none of it costing me a dime, at that first moment of awareness, I would have to be stark raving mad not to be grateful.....And that is just the beginning... Be thankful. Happy Thanksgiving!
How's your day so far? Feel the air in your lungs? Feel your beating heart? Good, so far then? Proceed from there .
I try to love myself, as they say, "warts and all," but most days I find something far more interesting to emotionally embrace - the magnificence of a bird in flight, the staunch sobriety of a toad, perhaps some "suitcase"stone with centuries of color tightly packed.
Though it is improbable you will ever totally stop mourning the death of loved ones, it is possible to reach a plateau where your grief from losing them is diminished by your gratitude that they once lived.
I have not consumed a large amount of prescription or non-prescription drugs in my life, nor alcoholic beverages. Of course, I’ve had the opportunity, but in most cases not the capacity, and have been able to glide smoothly through even the normal dark hours of self-doubt and self loathing through the assistance of family, friends, and generous dollops of ice cream and various types of confections
TRIBUTE TO A DAUGHTER: Since the day you were born, you poured back into me. Every trial and hardship, every happiness bore the signature and seal of your support and companionship. You are the absolute who gives everything, holding nothing back, always jumping heart-first into the service of my needs, and so generously into the rest of the world.
Every time my daughter does something nice for me (almost every day), I remember when we fell on hard times when she was six, when we ate tuna-and-noodles and sausage-gravy on toast for days at a time, and when I sold some furniture so we would have even that to eat. My daughter remembers it as "the time I sold my bed, but not hers." Ok, sure, I sold it, but that 's not what I remember. I remember it as a time I told her bedtime stories, and she told me bedtime stories, and she wore funny hats and peeked around doorways, grinning like a goon every time I felt a little sad. The bad times didn't last for long. I found my feet. I got a job. We still tell each other stories. We still make funny faces..... From way back then to now, the good times just keep on rolling!
1956. "Are you lying?" my dad asked, and I tried to keep the New Orleans brass band of falsehood from my eyes, tried to look confused as if truth was a multiple choice question, and his hammer came down again and again on a nail till it was buried and bound boards together into something, albeit usually peculiar, something strong, something useful, something like he was determined to make me--- out of a pile of unpredictable, next-to-nothing odd pieces.
I have much for which to be grateful. I didn’t follow a genetic curve and drink myself down to the asphalt. My choices have been all mine, not one made by a policeman. I never entertained even a half-assed desire to grow a penis. My face has often been crowded by sun. Though I have a past of two shirts left behind that smell like nothing, I also have known a man or my dream of a man (For the first time, the two were not that far apart.) and maintain a taxidermist’s delight-of beautiful memories while carrying a big vintage ring that no longer fits any finger -- Right into a wonderful today wowed!!! by the presence of fine family, including a multi-skilled, kindhearted and incomparable daughter…. and then there’s that colorful array of unique characters - my buddies, my amigos, my friends.
I fell yesterday and hurt my ankle. For a good part of the day I limped badly, and eventually had to hop. When I went to bed, I had a little talk with my body. I said, "OK, you might have noticed that there is a little problem on the ground floor. Send the medical team to the area for full support. I expect to be walking reasonably well in the morning." A few times during the night, awakened by pain, I sent my message again and, come morning, I am walking almost normally, with only a slight pain hesitation when I turn my foot a bit in the wrong direction. I like how the body responds to requests (if you totally believe in it - as I do) . Throughout my life, I have used the same process to rid myself of other SMALL problems, and even the hiccups. The body is an amazing thing! Just one more reason to be grateful!
Today I’m celebrating! I celebrate the air with the well-being of my breathing. I give accolades to the never-finished canvas of a Spring day. I applaud the contributions from the living and from sage, departed souls. I give thanks for all the people who tell the truth, and those who lie to me when I need to rest easy. I celebrate that, though I am old, I still contain the ghost of a little girl… And because I pass it now and it fills my head, I celebrate the perfect purple, the unperturbed smell of lilacs blooming.
Thank you.... You have stood watch every night, ready for action, the both of you. Grounded, knowing me well, you accompany my late night escapades, and are what I search for the first thing every morning. You are not the prettiest, are misshapen and flawed from familiarity with me. We have travelled miles and hours together though I never allow you to leave home.... except for the one time I forgot and wore you to work. Thank you.....bedroom slippers.
In my house I don't "saute" things. I "fry" them. The aroma and result are the same.... And I don't have to shine my shoes to sit down and eat it. Sometimes a fork is sufficient service, and forget the plate.... I am grateful for my common roots!
Thanks for all you recyclers, people of course, but also the buzzard, coyote-- connoisseurs of roadkill, the flies and the maggots, and all the poop-eaters and revelers in rot that by peculiar palate contribute to world cleanliness.
I am grateful for this moment, for safe passage over roads and through intersections, for the absence of high drama, for countless breaths and heartbeats, for the continuously refreshed tapestry of beautiful landscapes
When a live hand holds a dead hand, loving what it must let go, spoken words diminish in effect. Say it now!
Thanks to those who have bought my book.
It is true that I started my blog with primary intent to broadcast and promote sales for my novel 'Prostitute of State.' Even then, financial gain was not my primary motivation. 'Prostitute of State' deals, in part, with an important segment of our history, and it also addresses many of the emotional struggles we all go through to reach a truly comfortable spot in life. I tried to bring information and provide solace.
Okay then, now I find my desire expanding to be a showcase for others who have issues they want to address, talents they want to display, who seek some form of validation. There are great sources of talent in the world, and many of them are local.
..............................I want to thank those artists and writers, Lori Salts, Mary Anderson, and Deb Monfelt, and Tom Wolosz and Ed Yatscoff, who have allowed me to display a bit of their work to begin my journey of broadening the interest base and reach of my blog. More from them, and something from others is certainly welcome!
Thank you for any comments on what I write. I fully realize that what is wisdom to one man, is probably hot air to twenty others. Your responses would make me think deeper or make me laugh. Don't we all need more of that?!
There are many "Einstein" thinkers out there, whereas I fall a bit on the "Seuss" side. Thanks for anyone who will enrich the exchange!
THANK YOU to all the hospice health care providers. How incredibly difficult it must be to watch old citizens eat their last meals and try to interest them in bright desserts when even the warm sun on their faces has little value to them. Several years ago, my beloved mother went through this disappearing act to death. Those who surrounded her were epic! THANK YOU!
Thank you very much, but...
Don't give me IV roses
Peg-legged in silk-bound vase.
Save such for spellbound debutantes
with hieroglyphic pace.
Give me the Christmas cactus
locked in I'll-not-beg-your-pardon clay,
sharp-knuckled and assertive,
sure to bloom within my shade.
Retentive, stubborn, faithful,
Not from fair-weather clan,
The Christmas cactus given,
means you love me
Beyond my pleasant span.
We move into another year, are given another opportunity with unlimited possibilities, enabling us to differentiate between what is unknown and what is just unexplained, giving us a chance to improve upon our best, and calibrate our worst to reach a better result. I extend a wish for spiritual, emotional, psychological, and financial prosperity in the New Year for each and every one of you.