Friday, August 27, 2010

The Manifestation of Wellness

Photo courtesy of
Bing images
I spent the greater part of the month of August 2010 very ill with what started out as strep and quickly morphed into pneumonia. This isn't unusual for my body, as I've been susceptible to strep since childhood and also have a weakness when it comes to pneumonia. I mentioned this very thing to a Facebook friend who is very spiritually centered and she shared that on a spiritual level, strep is very useful and intentional with burning off of old karmic energy.

This captured my attention because it is a concept I have noticed and paid closer attention to as I have become more spiritually focused in my own life over the years. I learned to recognize that, quite often, when I would leave an old job where I had been for way too long, I would become very ill. I recognized that this seemed to be my body's way of releasing all the pent up, stagnant, negative energy patterns that had existed with that old job. It can be a dramatic act for the body to become seriously ill, but at times it is necessary. Can we manage, on our own and without illness to release the same level of negative energy? Most likely, we can, but I daresay it would take us much longer to achieve. Illness, by its very nature, is a bright, fast burning fire that consumes everything in its path and aggressively purges the body on every imaginable level.

Photo courtesy of
On a mundane approach - think of what illness accomplishes. It forces us to STOP....fully and completely. We are usually bedridden for at least a couple of days, wherein rest is accomplished with sleep and literal inactivity. We sleep a great deal. We replenish our bodies with nourishing foods and liquids, and if we're gracious enough, we allow loved ones to cater to us and express care and devotion. Our hearts lap up the attention and respite from the hectic pace of the business world, and for a short period of time, we rejuvenate on myriad levels.

The spiritual and karmic side of things are ones that we cannot see with the naked eye, unless we choose to do so. It is more of a feeling, a sense of change occurring that may not make itself evident in the midst of illness - we're focusing more at that moment on how badly we feel! Afterwards, as recovery begins, if we do pay attention, we notice a lightness of being. An inner feeling of closure, of cleansing, of releasing and of peace that has been brought about by the moment of illness.

It is something to ponder, of a certainty. For me, as a freelance writer, it is of vital importance to always be searching for new projects and contracts; to always be sourcing new avenues of work, connecting with new business contacts, networking...always working, working, working to keep forward momentum in my personal work pipeline. When I contracted strep, this process came to a screeching halt. I stopped everything, simply because strep hits my system violently, and the ensuing stages of pneumonia are virulent and aggressive. I find that I cannot focus my mind enough to write. My blog posts came to an equal screeching halt, which also meant that the websites and ezines where I am a contributing writer were all put on hold. This concerned me, as it meant that active attention to my blog - which is a business calling card of sorts for me as a writer - also came to a definitive stop. I had topics for blog articles in mind, but I simply could not focus enough to write the content. All I could focus on was getting through the stages of being ill.

So, as my Facebook friend reminded me, strep and pneumonia had a purpose. There was a greater reason at hand that I became ill in the month of August, than just for the face value of strep going around my hometown. What is this greater reason? What is the purpose behind my whole life grinding to a ceremonious stop for a whole calendar month? At the moment, I don't know the answers to those questions. I do know that this time of illness has been very purposeful in burning off karma. I recognize that this moment of illness drew a proverbial line in the sand, cutting off the past and burning it away via fever and bodily dis-ease. I celebrate this fact, as it means that past struggles have been jettisoned....literally burned away and purged from both my physical and spiritual bodies.

Photo courtesy of
There is a phenomenon in forest fires that comes to mind as an analogy here....conifer trees have their seeds deep within the fruits, or pinecones, of the tree. These seeds can only be released by intense heat, which melts the resin sealing the pinecones, and cracks them open to release the seeds, or gymnosperm, allowing them to fall to the forest floor. The only time an intense level of heat occurs in forests is when a fire happens. This is when new seeds are released and germinate to produce new trees. It makes complete sense to me that illness, which generally carries a high fever as one of the common symptoms is necessary for our bodies to release a type of seed...planting, as it were, new dreams, new desires and beginning new stages of growth.

Dramatic illness sweeps out all the cobwebs and presents a new, clean slate for me to write on...again, literally. I know that new doors are opening as a result of this enforced inactivity and healing. The past difficulties, disappointments and frustrations have been cleansed from my existence and if I embrace this concept, there is nothing to stop me from writing this new chapter as I choose. This is the true challenge - to stay clearheaded and bright in personal purpose. I can choose to stay clear and free of negative mindset and old, kneejerk reactions that I have allowed to drag me down or self-sabotage in the past. Subconsciously and spiritually, my body and my Soul recognized that it was time to purge those very things and engaged in the process of illness to enact this purging.

It may come across as a novel, or even bizarre concept to embrace that at some level we invite illness into our bodies. I believe this is a strong truth, and I believe there is purpose behind every single illness and physical injury we experience. Many ancient esoteric concepts espouse the fact that the physical breaking of a limb releases enormous amounts of negative karmic energy. If we accept this concept, it becomes a bit more challenging to believe that 'accidents' are truly random. I, personally, do not believe in accidents. I believe that everything does happen to us for specific reasons and that Divine Order exists in all of these applications.

So, as I recover from this rather lengthy illness, I am mindful. I am paying attention to how I feel as I recuperate. I am noting the freshness and lightness of my inner and outer self. I am eager to step into this new phase, this new chapter, this new experience in my life and see what new stories are yet to be written. Cycles....the eddies of a pebble dropped into a still pool....the bands of light that refract from a prism....the waves of sound and color billowing out from our personal all dances together to produce a new reality.

Illness can be cathartic - cleansing - burning off old karmic energy. Why not choose to accept and embrace that concept, and find purpose in this moment? It is what I choose to do on a personal level. I see this month as a gentle nudge from God/Universe that now is the time for change to sweep in, first through the burning, encompassing hand of illness to prepare and weave a new canvas. And next, for me to release the emotional ties to habits, beliefs and actions that no longer serve a positive purpose. With these conscious choices and hallmarks recognized, I am being empowered...blessed, some would say....with the ability to move forward in new, different, positive and much more powerful energy. In this knowledge, I embrace the illness I experienced and I give thanks for its presence and its purpose. Many, many layers of what and who I was have been lifted away and I bid them a wave of farewell, honoring what they brought, while consciously choosing to never again embrace those habits. Will this be easy to do? It can be if I decide it to be so.

My newly buffed physical and spiritual presence is here and how I step forward in this clean state is of paramount importance. I realize I am creating a new blueprint. Am I saying we should all greet illness with a spry step and joyful heart? Absolutely not! I haven't enjoyed being sick for a whole month - this is not what I am saying here. More to the point, I am shedding light on the reasons behind certain types of illness. There is a purpose to how our bodies behave, and there is reason and order here. As I age and continue to learn, I am captivated with the fact that I find usefulness in areas that many would dismiss out of hand as a pure waste of time. This day, I smile as I write about the usefulness and purpose of illness...and the growth it encourages. Light can be found in many dark moments, if we choose to look for it.

Photo courtesy of
While being ill is never a pleasant experience, the result can be profound. Days, weeks or months from now, I shall be able to look back on this month of August 2010 and see the perfect order of it all. Today, it is unclear what doors are opening, but I am aware with immense clarity that this month of illness has been not only a purging and cleansing, but a preparation for beauty to manifest. One might go so far as to call it the manifestation of wellness!
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Searching for the Spooklight

Sorry for the pause in blogging, but I got lost on Spooklight Road. Yes, there is a mysterious light which haunts a deserted dirt road on the Missouri-Oklahoma border known as Devil’s Promenade. I first visited it many years ago as a child. The road was narrow, with spooky overhanging trees. I distinctly remember seeing that burning yellow light hover over the road like a floating bonfire.
Or did I? Since then, I’ve often wondered what it was I actually saw. Recently, I had a chance to visit it again at a family reunion when we set out at dusk in the 95-degree heat in search of the Spooklight. The Spooklight has supposedly been roaming the area around Hornet, Oklahoma since the time of the Trail of Tears in 1836, and there are stories of it passing through cars, chasing people, and moving at lightning speed. It has been investigated by the Army Corps of Engineers, and shot at by farmers. Theories about what it is range from marsh gas to minerals to earthquake lights to refracted car headlights from Route 66 (although the Spooklight preceded Route 66). Numerous legends are connected with it, including that it is the spirit of two young Quapaw Indians who died there; that it is the torch of either an Osage Indian chief or a local farmer who was beheaded there and is still looking for his head; or that it is a miner’s lantern as he searches for his lost children. I have heard variations on these stories, including that the miner is looking for his lost love who fell into a shaft, and that a motorcyclist is also looking for his lost head (although the Spooklight also preceded motorcycles). Whatever the truth, when visiting the Spooklight, it’s important to remember these Spooklight Rules: Rule Number One is this: You will get lost. Rule Number Two: If you look for it, it won’t come. Rule Number Three: If you don’t expect it, it will pop right out. Rule Number Four: If you take a picture, the picture won’t come out.
I remember three excursions to the Spooklight in my youth, but only one was successful. One of the unsuccessful trips involved six adults and six children in a ’67 Pontiac station wagon: three men in the front seat, three women in the backseat, and six children in the rear end. We were searching for the Spooklight based on my mother’s childhood memory. We drove around and around on dirt roads, following her directions, which consisted of, “This looks like the right road…No, this doesn’t look quite right.” Dirt roads in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night on the Oklahoma-Missouri border look amazingly similar. And every single one of them looks like it could harbor the Spooklight.
Eventually, the overloaded station wagon bottomed out on one of those dirt roads, tearing off some crucial piece of the car in the process. I recall at one point waking up to see one of my uncles outside the car holding a piece of the car while the other uncle pushed and my dad steered. Later I woke up and my two uncles, still outside the car, were now running, terrorized by snarling farm dogs. I saw many interesting sights that night, but I never saw the Spooklight.
I made a third trip in my teenage years with my cousins, which involved looking around at the deserted road and surrounding woods and noticing that we were basically sitting ducks in a Friday the 13th type situation. It was just a matter of time before we were picked off one by one by Jason—but not by the Spooklight, which didn’t show.
So years later, at the family reunion, my cousin Jamie offered to drive my sister and I out to Spooklight Road. He had grown up in the area. He knew the way, he insisted. He would take us straight there. It was only a few miles outside of Joplin, Missouri, not far from “Truck Town,” a massive truck stop area just off I-44. We passed by Truck Town and set out for the Oklahoma border in the growing dark. Jamie kept insisting that Spooklight Road was now paved, but I didn’t believe him. How could Spooklight Road be paved? Jamie said it was now “developed” and I imagined the poor Spooklight being crowded out by the suburbs. After a while, though, two things happened: I noticed that Jamie’s gas tank was low, and he sounded suspiciously like my mother had all those years earlier: “This looks like the right road…No, this doesn’t look quite right.” Maybe Spooklight Road isn’t paved, I stubbornly insisted, and that’s why you can’t find it. But the changes of the past decades had involved a lot more than just paved roads—Jamie, dangerously close to running on empty, finally got out his i-Phone and looked up the directions to the Spooklight on the internet.
And voila—we were there. We had been in the general vicinity of Spooklight Road, endlessly circling on the wrong roads, at risk of becoming lost forever like some Twilight Zone (or Blair Witch) episode. Except that getting lost on the way to the Spooklight has been rendered obsolete by the internet and the i-Phone.
As Jamie kept telling me, Spooklight Road is now paved. However, the spooky trees still crowd the road, and although there are more houses, the area is still rural. It was a Monday night when we went, and no one else was there. We stepped out of the car and Jamie said, “I saw it. It just crossed the road.” I thought it was a joke, but I turned, and there it was, a small fiery ball hovering over the road. It flickered and floated and split in two and reunited. We walked toward it, but at some point, we got too close, and it disappeared. When we retreated, it appeared again. My sister tried to capture it on her camera phone--but it didn’t turn out.
A few nights later, we took several carloads of cousins and relatives to see the Spooklight. There were lots of other tourists there, too, including a group sitting in their lawn chairs in the back of their pick-up drinking beer. One of them said, “If I just have one more beer, I’m sure I’ll see the Spooklight.” But sticking to the Spooklight Rules, the Spooklight refused to show itself to the mob.
That is, until everyone else had gotten back into their cars and left.
“Look!” I said. “It just came out!”
It did its little dance across the road, sliced and diced itself, and re-assembled. A few last stragglers saw the Spooklight that night—but of course nobody else believed us, and nobody got a picture. The Spooklight seemed smaller than I remembered it being, but maybe I was just bigger. Some people say the Spooklight is not as active as it used to be, does not roam the fields, does not chase cars anymore, and is gradually burning itself out. Or maybe it’s retreating from the encroaching crowds and traffic. Whatever the case, I’m glad I saw it once more.
To get to Spooklight Road, take I-44 west out of Joplin toward Tulsa; at Truck Town, take Exit 4/Missouri 43 south to Iris Road; turn right on Iris Road until it dead ends; then right on State Line Road, and left on E50 (also known as Spooklight Road). At least, I think that’s right. Be sure to fill up your tank before you go.
For more information on The Hornet Spooklight, visit these websites:
Also posted on my blog Strange Islands

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Embracing Sadness?

Studying Memoir Under a Cieba Tree (Mayan Kapok/Tree of Life)

Oasis Moment: Dealing with Loss

Grieving  doesn’t have to be a process that keeps us rooted in our thoughts of  fear and sadness. For the moment we might feel despondent, but by  expressing and coping with our true feelings, we face the sadness  head-on. Daily Om 

The above quote comes from the Daily Om web-log,that was founded by Scott Blum author of Summer's Path and Waiting for Autumn
If you ever were curious about how people who are "spiritual but don't call themselves religious" might think, these books are a must-read. Both are incredibly imaginative, insightful and connect to experiences and thoughts I have also pondered. 

A Death in the Family

My young brother-in-law, Joel, died last week. He was still in his thirties, not always healthy but death is a shock whenever it arrives. When my father died of diabetes complications at 49, I stayed in a kind of shock for years. When my mothered was murdered at 55, it was a shock. When my niece died in a car accident at 17, I was shocked. And now this death is no exception. Age doesn't matter. I'm just shocked by the finality of death. I have trouble feeling when I first encounter the news of death. I become quiet inside and observant outside. I'm treading water out in the middle of the funerary sea. 

All the death details and surrounding dialogue feel unreal when the shocked-state is in place. I remember the words, "He's in a better place," repeatedly sounding, but I'm not so religious anymore. Besides, those words never spoke to my heart anyway. I remember the last time I saw him in the intensive care hospital ward, he had trouble breathing and couldn't talk. Just before I left, I said "I'll see you later" and he nodded affirmatively. He wanted to live. He loved life. He loved to laugh. He held no grudges and didn't complain. He was a journalist and editor who celebrated my children's triumphs in writing, bringing them a little local fame and boosting their self-confidence. I appreciate his generous and considerate heart.

Feeling grief is difficult

In Blum's books, though they are spiritual fiction, he talks about the psychological process of embodying your feelings and allowing them to be fully felt without bodily resistance. I think I have more "embodied feeling work" waiting for me when I'm ready. Encountering deep feeling is frightening. 

I think most of us cope with loss by cushioning memory with distraction.

Some of my distractions?
Reading fiction at Borders drinking Earl Gray-er Tea

Mom and daughter bonding over a homemade honey and oats facial mask

Capturing a funny shot for my Twilight fan, Miss A

Confession. I have laughed inappropriately while waiting for death to arrive. It's like a dark humor enters my body, and I forget death and grief. I hope that I don't offend anyone with my behavior. I have seen death up close when it feels far away. It's just a shock-adaptation. I remember it when it happens- a kind of coping humor. True, I also distract myself with study and focused work where I block out all thought, I think. But then I realize I'm talking about death and loss to my poor happy fresh-faced freshman students. Bummer! I also need plenty of comfort time such as bonding with family, reading fiction or about comfort food and cooking it, immersing myself in nature, and, yes, laughing.

How do you go through difficult times of loss?

The Ceiba tree rooted in life as we are while living

The ceiba tree (or kapok) in Mayan cosmology was considered to be the  tree of life that connects earth to sky, or man to the divine. They left  notes with requests at the base of the tree, and poured rum around it,  ‘feeding’ the muse. Trish and Rob MacGreggor- authors of The Seven Secrets of Synchronicity .

Joel Villanueva Reyes

May your journey be peaceful. May your family and friends feel surrounded in love and support during this time of your passing.

Also, posted on Oasis Writing Link. TM  Cynthia Pittmann

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Redefining the business of marriage: putting mind over matter

A friend found the "love of his life" on a matrimonial website.

He has not even met her, but is engaged to be married later this year.

This was the first time I was party to such a selection process from the boy’s side.

Right out of college in India, I had been privy to portfolios that arrived at my female friends’ doorsteps.

Online matrimonial sites didn’t exist then – photos and biodatas were sent via snail mail for entire families to peruse over dinner.

My friends had rejected a couple of prospective grooms – some were too short (a husband ought to be at least 5’9!), or too fat (he’s going to become fat when I cook for him, but he needs to be athletic at the outset); or balding (I’m not marrying an

These same friends had been “rejected” by guys for similar reasons – she wears glasses (a defective piece); or she’s too dark (why won’t she use
Fair and Lovely?) or she’s too short (anyone under 5-feet is a child).

As an outsider in this matrimonial shopping mall, I couldn’t help but wonder why doesone need to be tall to garner favorable social stature?

Why is a head full of thick hair so much more preferable in a prospective mate than a balding plate? Why do we desire a perfect set of straight, white teeth or shapely hands and fair skin?

Why do we associate positive emotions with these attributes and negative ones with the others?

Sure, there was a time when your survival depended on your physical traits -- tall, muscular men could protect the well-limbed, fragile females better. Shapely women were considered more fertile.
If your physical appearance suggested you could perform your well-defined gender role better, you were obviously more desirable.

But in today's day and age, when we're not out in the jungles hunting our dinners, why do these physical attributes still get so much importance when looking for a life partner?

So what if he is short?

So what if she has Dracula teeth?

So what if he is balding?

So what if she has freckles?

What about character and personality?

What about intellectual curiosity?

What about a spark for life?

Are all those traits really secondary?

Aren't these the attributes that one should seek in a bond that's supposed to last a lifetime -- a lifetime that will see a withering of symmetrical boobs, a blemishing of perfect skin tone, an increased or decreased hirsutism, and a loss of perfect eyesight, among other things.

What stays is the kindness, the goodhearted nature, the drive, the thoughtfulness, the intellectual fervor.

Yet we make judgments based on first impressions – acknowledging only the shell and being completely dismissive of the person within.

I think marriages would have a much better success rate if folks turned the whole formula upside down -- and when I say success rate, I don't just mean marriages not ending in divorce...I mean happy, meaningful relationships.

Communicate via e-mail, snail mail, phone, or IM first. Get to know each other.
Then look at photos or meet in person. Relate to each other on an intellectual level, then judge each other on physical traits.

Love someone for who they are, not for what they look like.

What do you think?

Also posted on my blog.

Friday, August 13, 2010

How to woo the ladies

I want to tell you about a conversation I had with my eight year old boy when we were away on holiday recently.

I need to ask if I’ve potentially ruined the poor kid’s chances of happiness or if he should be okay?

Daniel, looking up from his Harry Hill book of jokes:

“Dad I have a joke for you, what did the owl say when he couldn’t go on a date with his girlfriend because of the rain?”

“I don’t know”

“It’s too wet to woo”


“I don’t get it”


“What does it mean? What is ‘woo’?”

“Ah well, that’s what you do to try and impress a girlfriend so she will marry you, when you take her out on dates and things you are wooing her, trying to impress her.”

“Oh right – funny, so it’s too wet to woo, I get it”


“So how did you woo Mum?”


“How did you woo Mum?”

I had to think fast – I’m not sure I can remember ever doing any wooing – I could hardly say two bottles of Lambrusco Bianco, a curry and the ability to breathe through my ears now could I?

“The Robot, Son”

“What Dad?”

“The Robot dance, I wooed her with my Robot dancing, she loves that dance”

“Really, did you?”

“Yep, we went dancing and I wooed her with my Robot”

At this point my wife came out of the bathroom having heard none of this conversation.

“Mum, is this true that dad wooed you with his Robot dancing?”


“Did you marry Dad because of how good he was at the Robot dance?”

Quick as a flash and totally dead pan, Jo replied.

“Oh yes, absolutely, works every time.”

At this point Daniel whooped, jumped up and started Robot dancing his way round the room saying that he had better start practicing then.

I have created something that looks, talks, and now woos just like me, I’m so sorry ladies of the future.

Also at

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Real Men Hug

If you saw a sad stranger in the street or in a shopping centre would you go up and give them a big unconditional hug just to remind them that they matter and that you see them and care ?

What about if you were over at a friends or relatives place and you were faced with the same scenario, would that make a difference ?

What would it take for you to offer unconditional support to a stranger ?

And I guess more importantly, what is stopping you from caring freely without barriers ?

Quite often you read in these Blogs of “ Hallelujah Moments ”, moments of clarity and understanding at such a fundamental level if is prophetic. I had one of these such moments the other day when I had to go to the local music store to collect a new trumpet case I had on order for my son.

Now before I go any further, I need to paint a picture of me, you need to understand the context of the event to fully understand the event in itself. Now I am a 42 year old male who tops the scales at about 180kg, I have short hair and a moe & goatie, I was in track suit pants and a simple T-shirt with thongs on my feet. I certainly do not look frail and I certainly do not normally look like the type of person who would normally care to much about those around me, I certainly do not look like the type of person that would take kindly to a stranger getting up in my face uninvited.

Yet as I entered the store I was instantly greeted by a small framed man in his 60’s, I was greeted with a heartfelt hand shake and a series of quick fired questions about who I was, How I was and what I was doing in my life at the moment. Now normally I would be the first to jump back in defence to reclaim my personal space as I am not normally a very good people person and very much defend my 6ft personal space and freedom. Normally a person getting up in my face so quickly and aggressively would rattle my cage and either fire up an aggressive defence behaviour or send me running. But for some reason this rather confronting and touchy feely stranger did not set off my alarm bells and flashing lights, I actually found myself rapidly drawn into his aura and genuinely turned my attention and focus to him, for some reason my welcome stranger look familiar to me both in looks and behaviour, all of which convinced me to relax into his company.

Now after having my hand shook for what seemed a life time, my new welcome friend decided to give me a huge heart felt embracing hug with all the trimmings of his head berried into my chest as if we were long lost brothers who had just met for the first time in 50 years. Once again for some strange and inexplicable reason I felt comfortable in his embrace and found myself returning his affection unconditionally.

My new best friend was not a big man like me, in fact he was quite a diminutive figure compared to my huge frame and when we hugged he disappeared compared to me. Yet hugged we did, two complete strangers in the middle of a music store !

Now my welcome stranger talked fast, very fast and he spoke in such a way that he kept repeating himself. It was like he had too much to say in far to shorter time and because he was trying to cram a life time of conversation into a moment in time and he could sense that I was having trouble keeping up with him. My friend kept telling me that we should love unconditionally, that we should never be afraid to show our love as we never know what life will give us.

At one stage our conversation changed direction and my friend asked me what I am doing at the moment, I told him that I was not doing much as I am out of work and just enjoying doing nothing for a while. Suddenly the conversation once again took on a frantic pace as I was advised that life is too precious and short to do nothing, everyone should be doing something, anything.
My friend then stepped back and shook my hand again and then pointed at a promotional poster that I was standing next to and proudly pointed out to me that the man in the picture was in fact him, although many years ago. David Helfgott then stepped straight back into me and continued to give me another genuine soul search hug.

Now some of you may instantly know of David, others may not but David is a world renown Concert Pianist who was immortalised in a 1996 film called “ Shine ” in which Geoffrey Rush won an Oscar for best male actor. David was a child prodigy who suffered a nervous breakdown and was lost for many years before once again finding himself and his life.

David never once hesitated in greeting me warmly and unconditionally in a way that I have never experienced before in my life, he was an open book and an open free soul in a way that I cannot hope to describe in words. It was obvious that he had been born with or perhaps lived a life that had given him a unique insight to life.

Now, as I sit back and write this Blog I can’t help but reflect and respect how free, genuine and open David lives his life, how much courage that must take and how much I would love to be able to relax enough to be that open with people. I can’t help but think that David has hit the nail right on the head and that we all should be living such and open and warm life.

Thank you David for being you and God Bless.

David’s web page ..

You May Have Noticed

I am a machine gunner. That's right. You heard it here. My confession regarding my procrastinatingly, annoying, downright disturbing, blogging habit of machine gunning other people’s blogs. I can’t help it. Ok, maybe I can help it but we all know I have no intention or hope of ever actually changing so … Well, deal with it or don‘t. I leave that up to you.

I really truly do mean to read and comment on other writers blogs on a fairly regular basis. Daily would be great. Weekly would even be acceptable. Monthly usually works out … if I’m lucky…and motivated…and the moon is rising in the fifth house of the seventh sun or something along those lines.

Anyway, for those of you who don’t have a clue as to what I am referring to, maybe you are blogless or you could care less if I comment on your blog, please allow me to explain myself. As if there could ever really be an explanation for me. But I digress.

So, you write your wonderful blogs. Then you read my foolishness. Thoughtfully, because that’s how you are, you leave your funny, charming, sweet, comments on my blog. Unless you’re one of my incredibly testosterone driven readers, then it’s a laughable attempt at big boy humor. Either way, you comment and I love it. I am validated. I can keep writing. My life is complete. Nevermind. The proper thing to do at this point would be to read your blogs and leave equally funny, charming, sweet, comments to complete your lives. I am even capable of leaving incredibly testosterone driven comments since my hysterectomy. But I put it off and plan on getting to it, then before I know it, weeks have mysteriously disappeared into thin air.

Eventually, I find a few hours to hide away and do some blog reading. I choose one blog , read all 1000 posts I missed in the last month and comment on each and every one. Then, when the poor schmoe opens their email, there are 1000 emails from me, each filled with witty, wonderful drivel meant to fill the blogger with peace, joy and happiness.

Ok, let’s be honest. I know I am driving some of you crazy with this habit of mine. I truly wish I could sincerely say I am sorry and that I will never do it again. Unfortunately, I am locked, loaded and ready to roll. You might want to take cover…soon!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


Time is slipping away from me


Like the sand in my hand

The water from a broken dam

Tears of grief


I can't hold on to it

No matter how hard I try

It's slipping like an ice cube

An oiled burglar

A slurpy noodle

A skier gone astray

A foot on a banana peel

A fish out of water

A ghost through the door

Time is slipping away from me


And I don't know

What to do

I'm pushing on the brake pedals

And searching for a pause button

But time is

Slipping away

From me


Also posted on my blog.