Thursday, January 31, 2008

from, towards and to

I plant the seed,
You make it grow.
You send the rain,
I work the hoe.

(Author unknown)

Seems about time, me being a farmer and all...that I write about my practices. Sustainable agriculture, (or as I like to point out)- is basically farming like our great grandparents did- within the healthy boundaries of budget,environment,productivity, common good and common sense. Rarely did my own kin use anything other than manure to fertilize, rain to moisturize, hand labor, and pretty much just down to earth (for the earth) common sense. They realized, I do believe- that their efforts conveyed a simple acceptance of life and the job at hand. The food they raised upon the earth they so dearly loved was healthy and always a blessing. They took nothing for granted. They worked hard. They rarely complained. They prayed...alot! They shared the fruits of their labor with family, neighbors- pretty much anyone who asked for a sharing of a meal, the breaking of the bread...I remember I remember with great joy- butchering days-hogs and hens and many a rooster, these tasks were done with a spirit of gratitude. Always we helped when Dad would get us there, even though we were kids, my brothers and I-we had a job to do. And after the great and wonderful chores were done, we would always go home with fresh pork, bacon, sausage-the best your tummy could count on. I remember Uncle Hank handing over the craw of the chicken, it would be filled with grain and pebbles-nothing was ever wasted on the farm, we'd gleefully toss it over the fence to the other chickens. Life goes on and on and on...this may seem crude, gross by today's standards-but folks, honestly that food you're eating was once a living member of this society, and someone or some thing way down the line from your own local/corporate grocery line-produced it. These days- so many products on your grocer's shelf have seldom been touched by human hands.Call me a hayseed, but where is the connection there, the one we all flow from, towards and to? In my thinking...( maybe-that's why blogging was created, so we inadvertent writers aren't alcoholics or worse...and we get to say what we think, what we feel, how we process...great gig!)I miss the connection, I do not feel anything for a machine, I cannot.(Except for a certain old gangegreen Ford pickup...& computers- connective devices...)
Is this where we've all lost touch with one another? Could this be the industrial strength bond that has broken our society? Do we not need to feel anymore-the connections? Wake up and smell the horse shit-the roses, the herbs, the freshness, renewable ever resourcing connections-man oh man, it could be this is this simple for this simple mind. Who grew it? I am grateful for your labor of love. Who built it? Again, much thanks. Almost everything I buy is connected through a relationship with the one or those who produced it. (And not because I think I have all the answers...hell, I don't even understand the questions much of the time- but for some reason beyond me, I have been "touched" with an elevated purpose for common good.)Machines, corporations do not appreciate this gratitude, they do not care for connections. Oh, they advertise sure and lead us to believe that our best interests are at their hearts, but truly I wonder- if our best interests were indeed the common goal-wouldn't they just come out and state this is how this was made, this is where this came from, this may or may not be healthy for the environment, for you, for your family...would they not at the very least supply a label of origin? Or back up what they stand for by standing up for us, their customer? And while I'm at it...who the hell will take my phone call, listen to my concerns? (Don't have to tell you that, now do I.) If, again-there's was an interest of common good. Nothing to hide? Then why is it hidden?
Just my thoughts, my opinions, my write-about-what-you-do, and stay-on-task-here...but, me being a truewonder and all- I work amongst the roots. If the roots are no good, the plant cannot be productive, part of the scheme, the connection...
Just my two cents, not much change really-but even a little change, a little bit of thinking outside the box-stores might do all of us a bit of good.
And one more thing, because I feel the need to say this- Just when did making money over and above what is decent- become ethical? There are too many folks these days who would have us believe that making money by any fashion is ethical.???? Again, smell the horse shit?! It sure does stink.
Climbing down upon the ground... thanks for hanging and hoping with me...take care-
(No spell check net today, technology may be breaking up with me I'm afraid...)

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Binge thinking

Long time no key...(s)...some idiot spilled a glass of water on the keyboard a few days back(me)and I was left to my thoughts. Binge thinking, hung over as hell! My head is pounding, eyes bloodshot- to many shots of clear insight.
Already so deep in here, I'll have to wear Muck boots, hope you have yours on too. And about this here new keyboard, well-may I say, compared to the last one, this one performs like a Jaguar. It took a few days to install as well, teens could stand it no more for I was not about to hook it up- see, I can install just about anything that doesn't require directions... or pertain to electronics, plumbing, fuel injections, or harming the environment. Yep, Jill of all trades- mistress of none. (But just give me an exploded view and wallah! I'll piece anything together...)
So, back to the keyboard...the teens look up to their mother, oh yes! They think I should do it all...not can do it all, just should. In looking up to me with their big, pitiful eyes like little baby birds waiting for that fat morsel of a worm...(keyboard installation)-they sat around the old nest here waiting to be fed. Nope, mama didn't budge- tossed the box their way and said "dear children, install it or your computerized party of a life will end." They thought I was bluffing. (But when these dear precious angels really give long pause and think about their mother hen, they know I rarely bluff- unless we're playing cards.) Oh they still used the computer, but could only listen- no reciprocating, no talking....oh the agony! So finally, the boy, the big 6' 3" saxophone playing maniac...took on the chore. It's a wireless keyboard, shouldn't have to install anything at all...except maybe batteries. The boy is a chip off the old block, he don't need no darn directions either! How he cussed(like teens do in front of their moms, no real authentic cuss words, kind of like the kid in Christmas story...futzerjam, mufinmanw,perlitzern, get the picture.)fun really, to watch him do over and over again the same function, expecting different results, but the keyboard would not comply. Finally- a cloud of thought arose over his head, and a light bulb appeared, like a dream- the bulb clicked on. "We need batteries, dermiegonnit!" Oh I had to laugh, even I- a directionless winch of a woman- knew a bit about power sources...must have fuel, spark, electricity, solar or...a battery. Did I mention the boy is a minor giant, built like a line backer? He was not amused. Nope, not at all. The light bulb that burned above his head snapped off and horns, actual horns sprouted on his head. The look from those cold eyes told me to produce a frown, an "I'm sorry, tee hee hee..." and some double A's real soon.
So, that's kind of the story in the story of why I have not written, have been on a binge...key less no more. And the boy, the big big boy...stood up to his mother, how dare he! Yep, how dare he... made me proud, that boy sure did grow a bit the other day. Ferknmoleeshiz!
Take care-

Friday, January 25, 2008

contrary moments, certainly

"Isn't it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity..."

Good morning,

Rooster crowing out back, moon glowing-sun trying to overcome the horizon. Moon yields eventually to sun's new day...

..."As for the moon- too early she rises
in a golden way hypnotizing me, early yawns follow-
triumphantly she glows

When sun and moon together compress the day between horizons of awe and wonder-
daylight beaten, I surrender..."

And this wonderful occurence happens every day, whether we are aware or not- up she comes and down he goes, or vice versa. I need to be more aware, more minute by minute-my mind sometimes runs in circles, getting my back up...silly, really. Absurdities of life making me listen when all I want to do is turn the music up...louder. To drown out blunders and thunderous blah from legal folks-too many twists for this simple mind, and the language spoken by such tongues...huh? If I could have but one wish granted today, a selfish one I suppose...say what you mean, what the hell are you trying to say? Speaka da english, not the jargin that costs hundreds of dollars an hour...geez! (Ol'true is getting a little fed up these days with politicians, attorneys, insurance companies and liars.) simple mind translates what my heart will not bear- stack up all the absurdities against that sunrise, the very one coming up at this this not a brand new beautiful day? And my heart says, "OH Yes!"
Experiencing absurdity does not mean one has to keep it, roll with it, or even carry it all that far. So- I'll leave it to the moon, down she she turns it into a fabulous show again this evening. Hopelessness into hope-sun and moon together and everything in between. Yep. Yes.

Go Ahead, Make My Day
(...though do pray if you please, that true here does not lose her temper, lose her composure, because my friends, I am due...and those who tempt me with more absurdity might just get more than they bargained for from a generally kind, nice lady who is getting filled up to the gills with it.)
Thanks. Be kind, take care-

Thursday, January 24, 2008

inclined to shine

"...a lustre of midnight to objects below."

Looking out my window this early morning, I can certainly fathom lustre...the moon's full glow casting shadows, "...I welcome night's noon for it's given cause, a kinder light to shine on the harshness of life's flaws..."

It is beautiful out there, and just sitting here thinking about how... it is this beautiful, similar-right outside your own window, where ever that may be. The moon does shine everywhere.
And, yes- I do feel like howling. When I'm done with these thoughts this morning, before the moon makes room for the sun in the sky...I will probably step out the back door, or hell! Boldly prance out front and howl-'cause it feels so darn good to do such things. No shame in howling-"'re inclined to shine
and I, devout, to heed..."

..."Bathe my soul mid night with celestial beams..." OWWWHHHOOOOOO!!!!!

Aw, go on-Howl!! You know you want to, sometimes being adult, respectable-is just so confining. Liberate your soul, the moon never minds...might even see a smile on her grand face...
Take care-

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Essentially, a story....

"You've got to dance like there's nobody watching, and love like it is never gonna hurt."

A friend sent me the pic above...just like him to share such things... that matter. I think I'll declare this the official Quote Blog today. Some favorites of mine, perhaps mixed in with some you all comment with. Totally interactive today- Hey! We might even learn something or two, and turn around and share it with the folks around us. Except the teens- they don't listen, I usually copy things and leave it in the bathroom- if I want them to absorb a wisdom- best place I know to get their attention. It works...rarely. There is a sign in the bathroom: NOTICE: Changing the toilet paper roll WILL NOT cause brain damage!
That sign only reaffirms their belief that they must rebel- they now leave a toilet paper roll right above the sign. Precious angels.

The acid of bitterness eats the container that holds it.

Long enough have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer...
from song of myself-Walt Whitman

"Look with the eyes of your soul and engage the essential," teaching of the Q'ero

Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. Dr. seuss

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down."

"...Child of our time -haven't you found the right shell for your soul?" Edith Sodergran

"Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it." -- James Truslow Adams

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts." -- Rachel Louise Carson

"I do believe love is blind....sometimes I think it has to be." truewonder

There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
Edith Wharton

"Some tension is necessary for the soul to grow, and we can put that tension to good use. We can look for every opportunity to give and receive love, to appreciate nature, to heal our wounds and the wounds of others, to forgive, and to serve." -- Joan Borysenko

Truth is a deep kindness that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with the people the same happiness. Kahlil Gibran

"...And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should..." Desiderata Max Ehrrman

"Remember, thou canst be brought into no condition, be it ever so severe, where Love has not been before thee and where its tender lesson is not awaiting thee." Mary Baker Eddy

“I’m really advertising to the public how easy it is to be good without an attitude; it’s just as easy to show decency as it is to hate today.”The Pigeon Man, Mr. Zeman

Essentially, a story expresses how and why life changes. --Robert McKee

Harvey and I sit in the bars... have a drink or two... play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they're saying, "We don't know your name, mister, but you're a very nice fella." Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We've entered as strangers - soon we have friends. And they come over... and they sit with us... and they drink with us... and they talk to us. They tell about the big terrible things they've done and the big wonderful things they'll do. Their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then I introduce them to Harvey... and he's bigger and grander than anything they offer me. And when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back; but that's envy, my dear. There's a little bit of envy in the best of us.
and also...
"Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, "In this world, Elwood, you must be" - she always called me Elwood - "In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me." Elwood P. Dowd/Jimmy Stewart in Harvey

"Love many trust few and always paddle your own canoe." Not sure who said this, but it sure speaks well to me.

Thanks for sticking around-hope you will enlighten too...with some of your own favorite quotes. Take care-

(Oh my favorite...can't leave it out, wear it around my wrist..from beyond...)
...If you give up the time, your soul will play the song..."
Beau G. Robbins-USMC-Corporal-Wonderous son-(found in his journal, after...)

Monday, January 21, 2008

Back to the feather

If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden, or looking for dinosaur eggs in the Gobi desert. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator. He will not be striving for it as a goal in itself. He will have become aware that he is happy in the course of living life twenty-four crowded hours of the day. --W. Beran Wolfe

The quote above hit me this morning like a ton of....feathers! Observing people is a favorite past time of mine, happy, sad, bitchy, gloomy-it does not matter, a story teller everyone. As BAM so eloquently commented, "the barely perceptible stars" among us. Very few people, I have observed, would fit the reference in the quote-but! at some point, in conversing with folks-their eyes do shine. Almost always, it is when they speak of their loves: children, family, beer, pets, gardens, music, sunrises, sunsets, a kiss, etc.
And most times, these are never present happenings, generally they are past experiences or hopeful future ones.
Hmmmmm. Speaking for myself, I am most happy in the present moment-when my mind turns off,my mouth shuts up and my ears and eyes, and sometimes touch-brings me the joy I often seek, but come to realize-to seek is often to miss out on discovering.

I'll go outside once I've finished here and chop ice, feed the animals, and say "good morning sun!" Happy, happy, joy, joy. Perhaps I'll discover a feather and marvel at it's intricacies, and wonder-which bird left this treasure? Or perhaps, out by the corn crib-I'll find owl scat with remnants of a late night snack and hope that my guineas, chickens and cats are all still accounted for. If not- well, I'll say something like,"Hey buddy!!! You've got fields galore and woods to boot, a smorgasbord of field mice await you! Knock it off." I'll think about shooting him, of course I know that's illegal-but still, I'll think about it...and realize eventually, he has as much right to exist as I do. I'll accept his habits-acknowledge he is no more trespassing on this land than I am. He's just doing what owls do...and I am thinking too much how to level the playing field for all the creatures here. AAAAARRRGGGHHH! There I go, thinking too much again! Back to the feather. A gift, a beauty- a souvenir of serendipity.

A slow-down-and-smell-the-icicles to you today, take care-

Sunday, January 20, 2008

someThing intricately structured...

(photo credit Jose More')

"...Love a guy who holds the world in a paper cup Drink it up, love him and he'll bring you luck And if ya find he helps your mind, better take him ho-ome Yeah 'n' dontcha live alone, try to earn what lovers own..."

Happy belated birthday -my friend of friends. So thankful just now, and I suspect always...that you were set upon this earth "26" years ago... Hope you're firing up that ole Hot Rod, you're gonna need some high octane/in low gear to ride with me... But you know that, love that-don't you sweet heart?! I won't invade your woods there with too many words -but I could find you in a haystack, just like you found me-in a hurricane. Picked me up, dried me off and preached your slow dance sermon to my heart, cold and heavy as it was-you carried it there to your wood burner in the play pen -poetically, sincerely warmed my soul like no other. Something about you, Mr. -that just makes me want to smile sometimes... Cheers, and see you some day. Me,my Levis, open mind and arms. Just as I am...

"... You even called me friend..."

Thank God I'm a country girl,Yeah...take care!

Thursday, January 17, 2008


I learned from stones I stepped upon
Death does not a life erase
Some memories never multiply-
But knew ones leave their trace
If by chance in reading this
And still can't comprehend-
Take this thing for granted,
In faith-my road did bend
I could not move the mountains
Standing fast within my way
No more could I just shadow sit-
Wrestling rocks for light of day
In keeping time, the sad song-
Played well it's brutal part
For every beat I could not miss
Though half restored my heart...
As blood and bonds break free-the veil
Exchanging everything I know...

For eagles, though they rise on high
Begin with sparrow wings below...

And so it is my friends, and so it goes. If not for pain and sorrow, I would not wonder at all. I'd accept it all as it is and be forever neutralized by it. Oh, that would be the greatest sorrow ever-to blend, to gray-never to color or be colored. Many times I have been asked how I came up with my "calling" name-truewonder. I can say it now, tell it without hesitation.
After my Beau left this place, flew off like an eagle to a higher perch...I fell apart. Every piece of me shattered. I tried my level best to put me and my children back together.
 I could not.
There is no glue, no industrial strength epoxy that can mend a tattered soul.
So I wrote a letter to God.
(I had understood, all my life-that He was to look out for me, I prayed every day to Him. Sweetly I prayed, always fearful that I might say the wrong thing. I was more afraid of God (and that may not even be his name, I refer to him these days as The Big Weirdo) than I was hopeful of him. So-was it I who was so insincere? Were my prayers then in fact half truths? Yes. If one approaches anything or anyone out of fear-there is little sincerity there, only love is truly sincere- is real. So the letter I wrote God-the being who I had put all my trust into, my insincere prayers to-every night, without fail-I use to pray, to beg...

"Watch over my children, keep them safe, I pray they will always know how much they are loved. Amen."

I even made bargains with God - as I had one son off to war and one son in and out of a hospital-"please,please,please-do not test my faith, I cannot survive if I lose one, please I beg of you, do not test me on this. I'll be good as good can be." With fear, I prayed.)

In love, in bottomless anger, in total sincerity-my letter:

My god, my god, what have you done? How do I live? How dare I live? My Beau, my Beau is gone...I cannot go on. How do I go on??? Cannot do this. Why?????????????? God damn me to this hell and heaven is the same,

it is a true wonder I breathe at all.

That letter is shortened above...I screamed obscenities, I called names, I came undone-in words.
Haven't we all wondered, in our Sunday lessons-that even such thoughts, let alone words screamed out loud, written down... wouldn't we be struck dead??! After writing that, I was struck alive. For the first time in my life-I was sincere. I wanted to be struck dead, I wasn't fearful of hell, I was standing already so near for sure, no suicide for me- I put the barrel to my head with such blasphemy, I dared the God to bring me to a certain end. Instead- beginnings, right then. I did not get up and do a jig, understand- I merely crawled away. But the fire in my belly, the smallest of flames I can tell you-it grew a little brighter, for I could see it in my eyes- in my reflection. And those words, those god awful words-were the kindling.
I have been decent to folks all my life, and many have returned nothing but indecency, cruelty to me. And that's not OK by any margin, but it is what it is-I will still be decent, kind-period. Because I was made to be a true wonder, as are you. And we all have so much to learn and teach...but the kindling, the love-has to be sincere, from somewhere deep within or beyond- somehow the lessons need to be shared. Have to be shared, or what else is there? Fear. Doubt. Half truths. Hate. If that is your aim, your game-I'd just as soon you keep it to yourself. The world needs light. The world needs love, all you have-give it. In words, in song, in hugs, in gratitude-give it. The truest wonder of that giving-oh my!- the harvest you'll reap from that sowing-boundless.
Too many words today, I know. But all my life, I thought I was merely just here to get through life, to bear living. This day finds me overflowing, I can no more hold back the goodness than I can hold back the Mississippi. A mighty flood has sprung from this truewonder-over and out of my banks for sure.
Take care-

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

divvy up that pie

Good starry Morning-

Went to a showing of the documentary KING CORN last night. Pretty interesting, well done film. These two young guys buy an acre in Iowa and proceed to plant and grow corn and follow it into the food system. Sharply written, cinematography was simply beautiful. The points hit upon were done with a great deal of respect, educational in a way that did not shove anything down the viewers throat-left wide open enough for thought, forming one's own opinions. And the humor, chuckle, chuckle, smile big! Pretty cool. I think my teens, if I could have convinced them to go- would have even appreciated it.
I also appreciated the different subjects in the film's views- local yocals with more going on inside than first impressions, their quotes-the way they live their lives and how open they were to those fellow's queries was a pleasant surprise. Even some of the policy makers opened their hearts before their tongues got in the way. Impressive. I especially liked their treatment of Earl Butts, as they visited him later on in his life, dressed in suits and ties. Mr. Butts was wise beyond their years, and they yielded respectfully to his hindsights. The subsidies argument, beginning back in the 70's- made more sense to me in how it was implemented. To put the farmers back in business, it was urged "Grow your operation!" So the new philosophy "The more you grow-the more your dough" was conceived and like all good things- the honest farmer did his best for his country and his family-to make it work, but then the pie looming large for the greedy guys- they took more pieces, gobbled them up and wanted more more more... so the good thing that began the movement became a not so good thing for everyone, and though it has not come to a certain end-it sure could use some revamping, and is in need of a fair overhaul. But I guess that is why God made politicians, you know-to divvy up that pie fairly....
One fellow, perhaps a policy maker(I was taking these notes in the dark) stated, "we subsidize Happy Meals-But we don't subsidize the healthy ones." Had to be thankful for that, an honest answer. I don't know, I guess if I had wings to fly and a microphone in front of my face and got to stand there back in the 70's and ask the policy makers just one question, mine would have been-"Gentlemen, is this policy for a common good or for a $olemn one?" Just my thoughts as I watched the film.
Well done film makers, truly. Take care-

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Think Again...and then some

“The funding of the humanities in colleges and universities cannot be justified by pointing to the fact that poems and philosophical arguments have changed lives and started movements.”

Why not? If not through the humanities, how else do we develop poets and philosophers? (Name of commenter/questioner not exposed.)

_From a blog-New York times "Think Again" by Stanley Fish

(Whew! Big and bigger words for a hayseed like me, but finally a comment that I can shed light on.) You don't. It is not up to an outsider to develop another's insides. The woods, though-are a good place to start, to become a philosopher, a poet. A tree tells me how to handle racism, social injustice, inequality- a true visionary, a tree. And how about the symphony there? And the growth, ring by ring-affected by humanity and nature's ruthless battle against it-tells me more than I ever cared to learn in a classroom. One more thing about the woods, which for my money-is the stuff we should really is true poetry. The word of the woods, the root of every university and intelligent conversation-begins and ends with entering, being still, listening, being ever mindful(critical thinking?)of it all. Poets and philosophers, each of us-have only to develop ourselves of the natural, real world. Books are great, but critical thoughtful long awes of pause in a place where we all come from and all will return like compost, revealing truths that have no war of words against them-that my friends, is where the real education lies.
And one more thing, if I haven't worn out my welcome...Desiderata-Max Ehrmann-1920, cry every time I read the darn thing. Shaped me, made me want to grow beyond what had been stifled by teachers who thought well to teach me, but couldn't peer beyond their own educated noses-to see anything else. Open up your eyes, friends-look around. A little bit of woods will do us all-a world of good.

Hayseed Farmer, central Illinois
Un-educated university/college wise, different education, NO BETTER NO WORSE...Clearer now?!

(My comment on the funding of universities Humanities-which is good, but not best. These woods, our natural world we're eradicating, could care a chicken poop about-are the only places first and foremost that should be supported financially, physically, poetically. The woods are where I received my education, to a degree... I use to be ashamed about that-no degree, but-I think my own quirky personality would have been greatly stifled. So-hope I didn't step on any toes, hell-they probably won't even read my comment, beneath them I suppose. But- maybe they're all a little smarter than they let on.)(This thought pulled from the site mentioned, visit it before assuming the worst of me...geez! I found there, buried under a mountain of words-a root that we all stem from.)

I do not mean to offend
by what I do believe
but what kind of faith
to be found in conformity?

Let's find a shady spot
With a comfortable seat-
Come and sit beside me friend,
And we'll agree to disagree.

Hey, thanks for hanging in here...truewonder gettin' too big for her britches! (As my dad would aptly put it.) Look at a tree today, tell me what you see, or at the very least-keep it in mind, the story it told you.
Worlds of wonder to you, take care-

Monday, January 14, 2008

Cougar Invite, Bobcat Decline?

Good Morning-
I'll be heading out the door soon to take dear sweet grandma to the docs. I guess when you're older, you go to the Dr. about as often as you get your hair done, it seems. She is not thrilled either, and sometimes(she being my superior and scary to boot)-it is a snapping turtle-like adventure convincing her, that yes-we must go. But she loves me, always feels like she is causing me trouble...nah, just doing for the woman what she has always done for me-accommodated, made time.
And I do need to throw the gauntlet down here. My brother-a Big Lebowski clone-he abides, just abides usually...but for some reason he seems to be whimping out on me. I have invited him here, asked him to share this space with me for some dueling banjo-like blogging. See-he is a writer, a Vonnegut- Soupy Sales type. Lives there in the Keys, likes to rub it in that he has a sunburn in January, a real PIA. Anyway-what about it brother? Show some skin buddy, there are no sharks hear, big fish occasionally-but, what are you waiting for? Bring it. Tick tock, tick tock...
Take care-

Friday, January 11, 2008

Seeds of In Difference

While I am fully aware that I certainly do not have all the answers - that people will always have comfort zones they will not want crossed, I will most likely end up crossing some of them when internally prompted to do so because while I will forever risk moments of loneliness from doing so, I will do so because I walk in truth . . . because I have integrity . . . and because I am a friend . . . .

The above quote was heaven sent, flew into my lap this morning, and perched there like a bird. The writer of that quote, I know deeply-and yet, I have never met her. She flew into my life via a newspaper article and had to respond. Her strength amazed me, her guidance through eventually a cell phone conversation revived me, a restoration, an inkling of trust in me again- for outsiders. I know I lay much out here daily-some might feel too much, those comfortable zone types-but truly, I am so much an insider, a loner. I go out and shine when I need to, when perhaps others need me to-I am a loving person, I overflow with love-a verb, not a noun. (Thanks Eric)I plant the stuff like seeds, water everybody that I meet with it-created like that I think-a drought lifter.

There are too many folks in this world as it is
Whose hearts lay dormant in a pain filled abyss
Who am I to rage against them?

And believe me, it's hard stuff to rise and shine for folks who would rather lay around and whine-but I'm just so sick and tired of apathetic attitudes, that I reach in, feel around for their switches, and turn them on. Not so much for them- for me. For us. Dark is good for mushrooms and rest-but for living and loving, I for one need the light. I can hold up my little match of light to just about any darkness-Because I did dwell there, explored almost all of it-had to. And then I crept out into the light, again-had to.

...I will paint in remembrance
and portray him in frameless pictures
large as life vivid as the sun
long as the sky
and dark as the darkest canyon
that I hope I never fully explore-

He wouldn't want that-
Save Joy

He would say.

In a round about way, I got here today-didn't think I had much on my mind worth sharing-guess my spirit felt otherwise. It's that love-verb thing, makes a person want to fly off in unsafe distances-breaking the barrier of confining comfort zones.
Feather's flying! Take care-

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Love, Mom

my dear children
you are
the light
always the lightest light
I have ever known
for you I'm me and all for you
I'd give you the world if I could
manage some how still
to see you humble
but I am one of one
and cannot get by
with allowing to much crap
from you folks
you're capable for sure
to be appropriate
and pick up those messes
you often leave me with
tired of it for sure
but still, the light of my life
you are
my dear children

What the hell just happened?! The above verse says it all, but still I'll try to explain if it seems all too opaque.
This farm, our home-does not run on fairy dust. And there is no wizard that I know of who pays my bills.
I ask for respect because I expect it mostly from you, as I give it to your properties and your room to grow, excusing many little battles .
I am tolerant, too tolerant and it serves no purpose other than letting you off on another day of getting by without getting it done.
This may seem harsh to your youth, a freedom time-but my youth found me a farm, and family, and offspring that I feel need to buck up and take on some responsibility that has always been yours to begin with.
There it is-the work of your day, a little offering, a contribution to a family who needs one another at their best though often sees each other at their worst-and bridges the gap between right and wrong with love for one another.
So, my sweet babies-time to inch forward a bit and help out around here.
Or else.
Or else we'll all be miserable, and we need each other, really.
I am the wise one, sometimes...the one who often has to stand up to you, for you so that you may yourself one day rise to any occasion. Tough stuff here, being hard-but softball with you guys right now will only propell you backwards-and while I still kick and breathe as your mom, I will affirm to be firm on this issue of responsibility and respect.
Love, Mom

Justice To The Scene

The picture does not do justice to the scene. My new found friends took me for a small hike-I asked to be blown away in consideration of what they might show me- that was the prerequisite for sight seeing. And I was. So much so that I forgot my irrational fear of heights and crawled on my belly out to the edge and looked over. Breathtaking, fear-taking view. I did not bring the camera along out there, I feared I might drop it. I lay on the flat rock, peering over, a description of what I saw is easy, but how I felt? Not so much a feeling, just a being-in a minuscule timeless segment, soaring. Retrieving back the safe distance, I remember remarking that I could not believe I had just done that-not like me to throw caution to the wind(too intuitive really, some risks are worth taking though), but I had to see, had to be out there on the edge. Blown away? Shown a way, a new way to be-free. I won't climb up on the corn crib to repair the roof, but I'll crawl to the edge of a cliff, feeling compelled by something other than my own fear and gaze in utter awe. That's a keeper, a memory worth holding onto-one that I might stack up to many others, and let them go.
I feel an analogy coming on...Shouldn't we, on occasion-when we're feeling weary, life weary-world on our shoulders-set it down for awhile and crawl to the edge? Or walk upright, straight and tall and look it in the eye, fear? It's air really, just air-given the opportunity it will cease to exist in one's mind if one just takes it in anyway, exhaling a sublimity to last all of one's life. A memory making room for only, simply-yes.
And one more thought here, on my deck off the back of my little cabin there in Ten mile-I woke up around midnight, fully awake. Could not go back to sleep, wrapped up in a blanket, grabbed a smoke-went outside, sat in a deck chair and looked up at the stars. Favorite pastime- star gazing. It was cool, the night air-and the lake under the sky there was still and smooth. The stars were in the lake as well, it seemed. A ghostly white figure gracefully floating, reflecting on the water as it neared the shore. Ghostly in a way that I thought I might be seeing things or still dreaming, not really out there on the deck, maybe still in bed-not really awake? But the nicotine was real, the smoke lifting from my lips, rising. So I calculated that I was indeed awake and must be seeing a ghost?! My heart rate picked up(yea, could've been the nicotine...)and fearfulness and disbelieving reared it's shameful head-no such thing, ghosts. Still, I looked around-hoping someone else might be outside, someone I could talk to, lament. No one but me. And the white Egret gracefully making it's way to the edge of the water. Wonderous bird, couldn't sleep either I guess, I was awfully glad to have it's beautiful company. I remember laying my head back again, looking up to those far away stars-for whatever reason, I cried. And prayed. Thank you, thank you-for it all. Amen.
Take care-

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Barely True

City Recreation Center 107 North Main Street Sweetwater , TN 37874 Review: A highly recommended experience. The hamburgers, made personally by the owner John, cannot be beat in the north south east or west. The characters that inhabit the house are beyond the common man. Characters with character each and everyone. Pool tables in back are ancient and in line-if you stink in your shots, well, you probably should take up golf. The atmosphere is one of friendships, past present and future meetings of the kindred sorts that mix, that are drawn to such places-subjective. I'd encourage anyone inclined to wander-take your best line of B.S, hold it up against the lot-you may qualify to sit at the "TABLE", a holy place indeed. And cheers all around there, whether it's O'Douls or Budweiser-father John will take you in, wrap you up in the spirit of that place, and adopt you as one of his own. "Some of the best families were not raised under the same roof" that quote living large and quietly in City Rec Bar and Grill-Sweetwater, Tennessee. Go. Much to gain.

Above'd think I said all I had to say about the place, the City Rec. Nope, not by a long shot-which my whole trip was. I did not know a single person when I arrived. When I left, I had made more friends than I could shake a stick at, and at some of them...I did! A big ole' double edged stick on my belt-a USMC utility that spoke for itself at times. Walk softly and carry a big knife, that's my motto when walking in the woods of foreign places and sometimes nearer ones. Anyway, the men there at the rec, and I use that term tightly-were humorously impressed with my sidekick. See-my cabin lost it's electricity and heat so I had no where to go...a gardening buddy Ronnie and his best pal Linda had said earlier "you got to go to John's City Rec, especially if you like to play pool." What better time to go somewhere warm and inviting-when you haven't bathed, your hair is matted on one side and well you're a bit foggy from the previous evening's adventure. So-off I headed towards Sweetwater, not knowing what lay in store for me-'cept maybe a good hamburger and pool if my head would eventually quit banging to the beat of too many Coors lights(3-4), I cannot drink beer to save my soul, it does not agree with me and makes me giggle-alot. So, I walk in, no sashaying for me-'cause I must have looked a little homeless, little did I know I had found a new one.
My buddy Ronnie was there, eating a burger-he introduced me right away. "This is the girl I was telling you all about...." Yikes! What the hell did that mean?! It meant that the man thought enough of me to make sure I was included, welcomed right away. Mr. John put his arm around my shoulder and swept me off to THE table. Lordy, lordy-I swear I did not know what was in store for me- I was introduced to Scotty,Jonesy(Mr. Jones to me),Plumber(the man missed his calling,laughter is his game), the mysterious Postman,B(e)ar-pronounced "Bar" and others who came and went, but it was I sitting there at this table that stayed, outlasted my own will and more beer than my bladder could handle. (Just in case you're was affirmed early on that if I was to hang with the big dogs at that table, I was to drink right along side, beer for beer-and that Mr. Jones and Plumber would give me a ride home in the "Ghetto Sled", they lived on the lake near my cabin. Plumber was the designated O'Douls man. And he made my bladder extra weak by making me laugh all tooo much.)So, I'll continue...I mean, you know-I won't shut up yet...keep reading. So-I saddled right up there to the table, I'm a big girl, with my big girl pants on...did I tell you already I was a bit green from the night before? More beer?! Oh please God, not that! But the characters there insisted, number one rule-cheers! Number 2 rule-Bullshit. How could I resist? Hair of the dog that bit ya', right? And believe me brothers and sisters, I was not born to boogie-I was made to bullshit. It was on. And on it went, like music that everyone knows the words to-we were batting around the cow pie like The Babe. Beautiful music, barely true.
I'm at a loss of words here, I tell you-I cannot properly convey the finest time I had there. Those men treated me with more respect and honor than this woman has ever been subject to. A southern man. Real men. Lady killers? None affected me like that-except one, cocky, strutting,full of his self type. Played him a game or two in pool-I'll give him this, I could not beat him-pretty good. But even if I did, I think-him being all ego and all, he would have melted like the wicked witch in Oz, I could not do that to the man-and now I do use that term loosely. As I was leaving, he said "Why y'all gotta go with them old buzzards? I don't need no Viagra!" I couldn't think on my feet fast enough (Coors related)-but I hope this gets back to you my friend. Them "old buzzards" got more going for them in their little finger than you have in your whole being, and I don't think they make a product for a man like you-you're the one who needs to stiffen up.. and see a xxxxxxx.(I took that last word out, no reason to be mean-serves no purpose. But I am a bit ornery.)
Ok, so back to the Rec...oh, yes we were leaving. Homeward bound! Nope, Plumber there is a vet, see-and he wanted to take me to the AmVets there in I giggled all the way there, and the whole time there, and finally leaned over to Mr. Jones "Jonesy, I am not long for this world." He told Plumber, so politely-(Mr. Jones is a charming man, I don't know his true age-I only know true charm never ages)"Plumber, let's take this lady home." So we said our goodbyes to the crew there, oh did I mention Beaker? Well, now that IS another story indeed!!! I'll leave you with this impression-he quite possibly was the purest, most innocent soul of a man I had ever encountered-and funny,funny to beat the band-but I don't think he was trying to be, that was just his sweet nature.
Ok-let's sum this whole thing up...I was in the land of a Bullshitter's Paradise, what better way to spend a day off the grid. And on the mark, precisely where I needed to be. Talk to y'all later, take care-

Monday, January 7, 2008

Ten Mile

(A first of many revelations on my recent trip to Ten Mile Tennessee)

"Ten Mile Tennessee I hear you calling me, back to a simpler place and time..."
Off on a wanderlust, left Illinois for Ten Mile on New Year's eve. Left a mountain that I did not care to climb, stayed neutral to long there on the ascension. I needed to get away to see the trees beyond the forest. And see I did.
There's something about the place and the faces and...the sweet tea. Here in the North-damn yankees! We put lemon in our unsweetened tea-after what I've encountered there in Meigs County, I say "Sweet Tea please!" I want to be warm and welcoming, accommodating and fun like the sunshine over the peaks of the hills beyond Watts Bar lake. People- (may I call you people? Thanks.) I experienced more friendly just downright hospitable hospitality there in Ten Mile in 6 days time, in a conglomerate of different folks with different strokes-than I have in any place I've traveled, and believe me, I get around when the road beckons. "Would you come for supper?" "Don't worry gal, we'll take care of you!" "You're always welcome." "Sweet Tea (sounds like swiite tee)"Cornbread?" "You ought to meet..." "You ought to go to...." And all those southern gents, my, my, my-they are a respectful bunch. Well, I almost felt like a real girl! I might have even blushed a little, especially at being told I looked like a porn star from one wild man from the woods. Was I offended? Nah-mostly upended for a bit, but then I learned he meant it as a compliment. Don't know which flicks he'd been watching, I'm not so blessed in the ta ta region-must have been a flimsy film he was referring to! I got to tell you, it's not every day you get a compliment like that! If I had dentures, I'm pretty sure they would have flown out of my mouth at his observation. Huh, maybe I'm in the wrong, well maybe those films, is where the money is! Ha!(And technically, he said I looked like a school teacher porn star, there's a visual for you.) I can see it now...Terry Does Ten Mile, and then maybe Terry Does Sweetwater, and then-now follow me, I'm just such a visionary-Terry Does Dallas! Never been there, might work out for me. If I can keep my clothes on. And my eyes closed. And had breast implants. And fuller lips. And made weird noises that are suppose to sound like pleasure...but the roosters and the chicks I know sound much like an orgy I think- when they're scratching and strutting. So, yea...I could do a pig's eye!
Back to the sweetness. I don't think the smile left my face the whole time I was there. I even sang karaoke! I got so liquid couraged up, I did Patsy Cline on "Crazy". I think I nailed it. Well, maybe I sounded a bit like Willie Nelson, but by golly I said why not(I was among kind strangers remember.)
I think I've given the Southerners a shine for the yankee, and I was beyond blown away by the grace those folks showed me. "....I'm going back someday, where the children run and play, and the sage fields gently sway in Ten Mile Tennessee." That's how I picked my destination, a song. Crazy? Just a bit. And lots of fun. And quite the pool shark...but that's another story. Take care-