I saw the sun

 

 

I saw the sun yesterday afternoon. Tears welled up in my smoke-irritated eyes. It seems like weeks since I saw blue skies and breathed fresh air. I am fortunate to live in the one of most beautiful places in the world; The Pacific Northwest, unfortunately at the moment we have the worst air quality in the world. Fires have been raging along the states of the west coast. My state of Oregon is one of them.We are literally on fire here. There is a big one called the Riverside Fire, it is the closest to us. Clackamas county only a half a mile south of us was and is currently under some sort of evacuation notice and for a time I was scared that we might have to evacuate ourselves. So far so good but we are not out of the woods yet. Ugh. Bad joke.

It has been quite a year for everyone and I am ready for some boring times because I am very tired of the interesting ones.I sit here by the window watching our backyard squirrels busy getting ready for the changing season. They are acting much the same out there in the smokey air. My indoor cat is a bit perturbed at me for curtailing our walks. And our resident hummingbird seems to be filling up its gas tank readying itself for migration.  I have a feeling I may have to migrate someday. We all may face some more interesting times in the future but right now at this moment I am grateful to sit here by the window and gaze out at the green trees through the haze. I notice the sky has brightened a smidgen.  I know there are brave people that have come from all over the world to help and they are out there fighting for us. I am grateful.  My heart breaks for all the destruction and deaths, the human ones and all the animals who have nowhere to evacuate to. I feel a special kinship with the animals of the forest. I even feel like one of them at times. My protectors, my heart and soul; the trees are burning and I feel so damn helpless.

We can only do what we can and spread our little bits of good around whenever and wherever we are able. I am off to clean out and refill the water containers I have outside for our furry friends. Its the least I can do.

Stay safe, take care out there, wherever you may be.

~Nancy

The sky today

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🔹Oregon Wildfires 2020🔹

Image by Unknown

 

Prayers for Steve Huss and all the brave firefighters . Image by Cheryl Stringer
Image by Earl Moore
Image by Chris Espinosa

Finding the Write Time

Writing takes up a lot of time. It’s easy to say to someone to make time like one can manufacture this precious commodity at the kitchen table with some sparkly glitter, a hot glue gun and determination. Time can not be made. We only have 24 hours in a day. Many of those hours are wasted, in my opinion, on sleep and unless you are independently wealthy or retired, you need to work.  Cleaning, cooking, laundry and other chores take a big bite out of what time we have left. And what is left? A few stolen moments ducked into a closet pounding away softly on a keyboard, trying to convey some deep ponderous shit then getting stuck trying to come up with the perfect word for “Fucking stressed out”, scared as hell that any minute someone will find you and interrupt your train of thought. Ouch! That is painful. To me writing is like flying. Once you are in the zone it becomes effortless. You are like a bird and enjoying the hell out of it and then all of a sudden some person takes a machine gun and innocently shoots you out of the sky. You land on the hard ground with a thud. UGH.

How anyone can do this is beyond me. And so when I say that I have no time to write, believe me.

But I do feel the pressure of time, its heaviness. I feel it ticking away. I feel there are moments forgotten, words not written. I feel there is something lost that I may never get back. And so my fear of crash landing is being overshadowed by my fear of never flying at all.

And so if my work is unpolished, or if I publish a little prematurely, without over considering my word choices trying not to offend anyone or give anyone cause to criticize. Yes, I know that I abuse commas and semicolons. So be it. Life is much too short and I am becoming much too wise to be so stupid as to get hung up on the illusion of perfection.  I am going to write what’s in my heart no matter how light and fluffy or dark and deary I am feeling at the time.

And we only so much time.

That being said, I am stealing a few moments on my day off, cat by my side, back door open to the sounds of traffic and birds. My mind is open to possibilities and opportunities.  I am finding this little break enjoyable and the chickadees seem to agree as the chorus rages on outside.

~SBI
Here I am out adventuring, definitely not writing…

 

 

 

“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.”

― Cyril Connolly

Drunken Squirrels

And so my husband is a nut, we all know that. He was telling me last night about squirrels and the availability of fermented berries and pumpkin? Yes, fermented pumpkin, and the rise of alcoholism in squirrels.

I googled this nonsense and came up with a story about country clubs in the south and how the alcoholic squirrels there, yes by cracky, here we go again, alcoholic squirrels have been harassing club-goers begging for sips of their mint juleps and spiked sweet teas.

I declare! In all my born days.

Squirrels are not only friendly and cute. They are also the animal you’re most likely to see wasted in your yard. Squirrels get intoxicated from ingesting fermented crab apples, squash, magnolia petals, and cherries among other delicacies.

Oh fiddle dee dee, Magnolia petal wine! We could be missing out here kids.

And so all these good-intentioned, well-meaning homeowners are being a bit lazy and leaving their backyard fruit to ferment. Not knowing that they are practically providing an open bar to the neighborhood squirrels along with any raccoons, stray cats or rodents that may show up.

This would explain a lot of the loopiness common in squirrels and other animals. I sure as heck know how silly even the most serious humans can get when they are “feeling no pain.”

I am fine with our backyard squirrels imbibing. It might make them more fun. As long as I don’t have to live with them lying on my couch all day and complaining about a wicked hangover and wanting sympathy and their nuts shelled for them.

 

The squirrels who inhabit our backyard are definitely peanut happy. Unfortunately there are no fruit trees or liquor stores nearby but they are content, and probably better off, with the nuts and seeds we feed them. They also like the clean water we give them in one of our cat’s old kitten dishes.

They have trained us to do this and we have found we like it very much. My husband plays music on his guitar and we dole out the peanuts. The squirrels run around and our cat Mocha loves to watch them and the many birds that visit us too.

These little creatures just bound up and they are so happy to see us. You can see it on their faces; the look of happiness and that little happiness spreads to us too. It’s “like a little jolt of electricity, a little high” as my husband put it.

This is our kind of partying.

 

 

What I am really trying to say, as nutty as it sounds is: We need more “drunken squirrels” in our lives. Fun little interactions with nature. Connections with other lifeforms other than ourselves. These creatures share our environment with us. Even if its just a cute squirrel in the park. I think we humans are becoming more and more separated from that connection with nature everyday. This makes it all the easier not to notice it all trickle away.

~SBI

“If we can teach people about wildlife, they will be touched. Share my wildlife with me. Because humans want to save things that they love.”
Steve Irwin

 

Believe

You have to believe. Otherwise, it will never happen.
~Neil Gaiman

 

What do you believe? Do you believe in rational notions, in well explained, well thought out reasonable reasons? Do you believe everything has an explanation ? Or needs one?

 

Do you also believe the fairy tales you were told as a child about the things that go bump in night? In strange magical creatures, in aliens? Do you believe in the power of positive thinking? Can you stretch your imagination to believe something you have been told is not real? Can you go where your heart leads and believe what it tells you?

Albert Einstein said that reality is merely an illusion, a very persistent one but a illusion nonetheless. I believe everyone has their own separate realities that are all unique unto themselves and that we do have a choice in what our own reality is. Of course I can’t wish a terrible president away or think happy thoughts and start to fly but I can take actions to direct my own destiny and I can believe whatever the hell I want to. And so what  if I believe in unicorns, fairies, talking crows and humans with good hearts I can
If you want to believe that too, you can,  but if you don’t believe that is okay , I still think you are wonderful and it doesn’t make my beliefs any less valid. 

 

Part of me is more rational than the other and I choose which part to believe at certain times. The whimsical one is getting more power all the time as I grow wiser with time.  The whimsical side has a much better use for time than the practical side I imagine. 

 I believe that people generally want to believe something, something beyond or greater than themselves. Our time here is so short and the universe is so very big and we are so very small.  

The best beliefs are those which you cannot prove to be true, the invisible ones you hold your heart. somehow I think people lose sight of that along the way, we are told what to believe and not to believe by our parents , our peers, by society. 

I feel I can believe whatever I want to, no matter what, as long as the belief is good and pure and honest, as long as it does not hurt anyone or anything, as long as it does not contradict what my heart, what my soul tells me to be true. I can believe whatever I want to and I can can disbelieve any biased , hateful crap that comes my way. I can choose to believe in the good of people and that there is hope in the world and that with love and cooperation and wisdom to see the truth for its own sake we can all live together and save ourselves from ourselves if we just believe. 

♥ SBI

Related articles

Whimsy   (strawberryindigo.wordpress.com)

Cottingley Fairies

 

What the Crow Told Me

A lone crow caws at me from atop a tall tree. The wind tosses my hair into my eyes. I push it away and squint to see despite the rain. And there it is. It looks down on me. As if to say…

“Don’t forget about me. I remain your spirit animal until I teach you what I have to teach you. Silly human.”

And I carry no peanuts, not a one. Not today.

And so it soars off into the unforgiving gray sky and I am left humbled in the rain by a tattered old bird in a parking lot in the first hours of morn.

I would feed them, these birds, every morning at my old job, the one that burned me out. It was only a couple of months ago but it still is very recent in my mind.

My interactions with the crows were my only joys during a joyless day. They became my spirit animal after a similar encounter with one months before the one I just described.

I was sad with nothing to hold on to. I would notice the birds on my way to work. it was wintertime and obviously not an easy life for them. I know from reading and from firsthand experience that that crows which are in the Corvid family along with Ravens , Blue Jays and other birds are extremely intelligent. I admire that intelligence and I admire the tenacity and determination these animals display just trying to eek an existence alongside humans.

So there is was in the same parking lot as before, in the very early morning and it cawed at me and kept cawing. I had time to take out the camera I was carrying and take this picture. I have since had the image blown up and I have it framed in a small frame. It is up on the wall to remind me.

It came to me that I could learn a lot from those scrappy but majestic birds and so I began to carry peanuts in my pocket to reward them for being so inspiring and to maybe give back a little to animals who have had so much taken from them by humans.

The winter came and went and so did spring and summer. My work life grew more difficult and it began to take its toll on me and through me, on my family.

All the while I learned from the crows and I grew tougher and more resilient and smarter. I realized that I needed to escape that job. I am learning that just because I am able to do something doesn’t mean I should do it. Nothing is worth having these burnouts. I have overcome so much in my quest for having a simple life, one just like everyone else despite my Autism. I think I need to work wiser, not just harder. I don’t need to torture myself. I need to celebrate myself. And I need to seek help. The crows are seldom alone, they thrive in groups, they are social and therein lies a strength for them . This, among much, much more I have yet to learn.

I am fortunate to have such wise and resilient teachers.

❤ SBI

Crow Quotes

When a crow says an intelligent thing, chickens may laugh at it. This is the laughing of the sand castles at the powerful waves!

Mehmet Murat ildan

Crows are incredibly smart. They can be taught five things on the drop.

Robbie Coltraine

I saw a crow building a nest, I was watching him very carefully, I was kind of stalking him and he was aware of it. And you know what they do when they become aware of someone stalking them when they build a nest, which is a very vulnerable place to be? They build a decoy nest. It’s just for you.

Tom Waits

“If men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough to be crows.” ~ Rev. Henry Ward Beecher

RELATED ARTICLES

Crow Symbolism and Meaning

Corvidae is a cosmopolitan family of oscine passerine birds that contains the crows, ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, magpies, treepies, choughs, and nutcrackers.[1][2][3] In common English, they are known as the crow family, or, more technically, corvids. Over 120 species are described. The genus Corvus, including the jackdaws, crows, rooks, and ravens, makes up over a third of the entire family.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corvidae

The world between two pines

A mystical magical foray through the foggy forest

“The richness of a moment comes when it’s both full and empty at the same time. The truth is, we live simultaneously in time and timelessness.” ~ Ram Dass

Where does reality leave off and imagination take over? Does it matter?


All at once the light of overcast day turns to fog as we step between the two tall pines and descend into into darkening wood.

I proceed with an uncharacteristic reverence, my steps slow and deliberate.  

The air is damp. Tufts of fogginess elongate, curving and curling between the trees trunks like an asp lending an air of mystery to the atmosphere. Although I am inside a natural area that’s inside a large park, I could be anywhere. 

There is a sense of timeless here, of ancientness. I can smell it. The pine needles, the mud, the old leaves, the moss. Ancestral memories encoded in my DNA have been awakened. I feel oddly at home, every twist and turn takes me deeper and deeper in. 

My usual gleefulness is gone, replaced by a watchfulness. Where my causal romp through the woods has become more than causal. I notice my steady breaths and I notice the birds are quiet. It seems as everything is at a standstill, but me.

It’s as though I am walking through a dream. The haze grows murkier with every step, my footing has been lost in the fog. The path twists and turns and suddenly I find I have lost the path altogether. The mossy floor feels like soft clouds and I imagine I am high in the sky feeling the cool fresh air. I feel so relaxed and at ease , I am compelled to sleep…

Then I spy glossy black wings in the corner of my mind’s eye and hear the cawing of the crows…
…suddenly I’m back on the ground slipping in the mud, catching myself in dreamland and jolting myself awake. 
Better watch my step…haha.

 

~SBI
All photos taken by me on The Wildwood Trail in Washington Park in Portland, Oregon. 

 

 

 

 

**
 
 

***

The infinite loveliness of nothing

There is a certain loveliness in nothingness, in unencumbered stillness, in silent empty space. In this absence of something there is a void that aches to be filled. Therein lies potential and that potential is infinite.

At least I tell myself this as I sit at the back door watching the trees dance in the wind. It is early morning and I am in the process of appreciating some idle time.

I still wake up at 4:45 a.m. A feat that has taken this once proud night owl years of cultivation to achieve and I will get as much down time as I can get even if it is in the early morning. Nothing lasts forever and this extra time will not.

In order to appreciate this time that I have seized for myself in an act of desperation, I must engage myself in the art of doing nothing.

My last job was in itself a culture of stress. I worked in a very busy call center in the public safety sector. There was high expectations and a rigid adherence to numerous and various state laws and regulations that required me to make statements that made callers confused and upset, this made customer service difficult at best. My days were timed to the tenth of a second, over one minute late and you have an “occurrence” and points were given, points that added up very fast for some and there was/ is a high turnover rate. I did well though. My calls were listened to and graded. I was thought of as smart and competent , I took  direction well and after a while I did start to sound like the others: A caller once told me I sounded like a robot.

I almost cried then.

There was a reason why I wasn’t the only one who had constant migraines there.

I felt I was drowning, gasping for air.  I felt desperate. An anger rose up in me that was not me at all.  This started to effect my relationships with my husband and family. I felt sick  to my stomach and my energy was zapped. I felt like a zombie just trying to get to the next day, to the weekend where I would try to cram as much living as I could in 2 days.

I bet my former coworkers would have been surprised to know that I am on the Autism Spectrum, I have masked it pretty well my whole life but that takes its physical and emotional toll on me and that job was not the best for someone with sensory issues, it may be one of the worst. 47 hour weeks of this for nearly two years did me in and burned me out. The job that gave me and my family health insurance made me sick.

 

Before I gave my notice I obtained a part time temporary gig in retail. It pays the bills, just almost. In the two months I have been there I have been much happier and healthier. I am getting myself back.


To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.
Lao Tzu

East bank of the Willamette River

Nothing gives birth to creation.

It provides the empty space for something to occur. Nothing is an empty cup waiting to be filled, it is up to us to fill it.

The only real commodity is time. We are selling hours of our lives for money. Money we need to survive. Most of us have no control over this and have to spend much of our lifetime devoted to that task.

There is no time for nothing. There is no blank canvas on which to create and on which to write the narrative of our lives. Some fortunate people have jobs that them happy, that happiness is reflected in their work and everyone around them can share in this happiness. They are excited to get up and start working for the day. I want to be one of those people.

I believe that I can contribute to society in a greater way than I am now, I should say in a better way. Whether I am baking bread, selling jewelry in a store or writing something that makes people laugh or cry or think.

This rat is so very tired of the race.

And so I sit here at the back door, feeding a few squirrels that have gathered. My mind has time to reflect, my writing voice is coming back, the one that has lain dormant for a few years. I hear it speaking in whispers, I can barely hear but I am listening.

SBI

 

**

“And to tell the truth I don’t want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don’t want to sell my life for money, I don’t even want to come in out of the rain.”

Mary Oliver

Good donut, bad donut

It is early morning in mid winter. I type not knowing what to write but knowing that I should write. So here I am trying not to disturb the cat on my lap and attempting to ignore the hunger growling in my stomach.

Coffee would be good but again that would require me to get up and disturb the cat, this not disturbing the cat thing is not going so well. Too bad the cat just won’t volunteer to make coffee but that would be ridiculous; no one makes it strong enough for me, not even my cat who my daughter named Mocha after my coffee addiction.

Doesn’t that look absolutely delectable?

Now visions of hot dark strong coffee with very liberal doses of cream flood my mind…

Yummmmm

Who brought the donuts up? I have no donuts at home. I have a fondness for donuts, just glazed usually or sometimes an apple fritter is nice. Jelly filled is not my thing, too unpredictable, could explode on you at any time.

“Weird donuts near me”

There is a donut place in the city where I live. It has mediocre donuts but outstanding marketing. It sells “interesting”donuts and has set itself up as a tourist destination. This place has acquired long lines of vacation people with time on their hands and money to spend. These people then proceed to walk around town cumbered by these tell tale pink boxes of donuts, I can’t help but laugh

I googled : “weird donuts near me” I got the place. I won’t name it here.

The Bad

Bad donuts are just that. Bad. And although mediocre donuts are okay, good donuts are better but not so easy to find when you really need them. I am reminded of late night forays to convenience stores jonesing for a cruller or just a simple sugar ring only to be greeted by an old jelly-filled brown lump that sits alone under a half- warmish lightbulb snarling at you when you open the case.

The Good

Simple is good. Fresh is wonderful. Quality ingredients, consistency. No bright colors or anything oozing out. No sprinkles, no gimmicks; although I love bacon don’t put it on my donut.

mouthwatering…scrumptious…You donut know how much I love you!

Of course I am romanticizing it all but I do love a good donut. I love bakeries in general. ask anyone who really knows me and they will tell you. I am in love with that smell , that delicious aroma that emanates from them. It makes me sooooooo happy!!

I have a dream about owning a bakery someday. I am used to getting up early anyway. I used to call business owners in a previous job and I noticed that owners of bakeries seemed to be the happiest. And so in the interest of science and my growling stomach I googled the best donuts in the world. I got a list showing the best donuts in the US and much to my surprise and delight I found the number two to be in my city of Portland!

And we know where that is leading….

And so I will report back and let you all know how it goes…

Nancy

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Why do we love the smell of bread? UCD scientists find the answer. by The Irish Times

Fresh Quotes: The Moon and I

 

There has been times in my life when it seemed the moon was my only friend. It seemed so lonely up there in the dark. And so it came to be that we’d keep each other company.
If we seem well acquainted this is why. 

Having romantic notions about the moon. I felt my soulmate, my kindred spirit, my best friend, a person I had yet to meet was out there looking at that same moon wondering about me too. The moon told me that love is timeless and to be patient, for love is that too. 
And so we’d have these little conversations wherein the moon reminded me just how small I am and how big and ancient the moon is compared to me. These talks tend to put things into perspective when I am as lucid as the moon which is only sometimes, most of the time I am a lunatic which is another story…

 

-Nancy

***Here are some Moon quotes intended to inspire the lunatic in all of us. 

 

MOON Quotes

It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the Moon.

Galileo Galilei
 

There is a moon inside every human being. Learn to be companions with it.

 
Credit: Public Domain

 

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.

Anton Chekhov

“The moon is a loyal companion.
It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.
Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”
― Tahereh Mafi

 

“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”
― e. e. cummings

 

Taking back my Mojo

 

Oh how I stumble and bumble, oh how clumsy I have become. Once I glided upon air like a bird in flight. Now I stagger across a concrete landscape like a glazed-over drunk in need a cup of strong coffee to wake me the hell up.
Once the thoughts flowed out like chocolate cake batter; smooth, concise, beautiful. Words would combine to make a confection of sorts, an image, an idea, a feeling that would be felt by the reader. It was a gift I possessed or at least I though I did once…

Being a loner who was good with words I felt at home with them and would be able to convey whatever I wanted, It was so natural, so easy. I took this for granted I knew no other way …now I struggle for the right words , the right combination of them. It is frustrating, there is much locked up behind me ,  behind the facade; the face(s) I show to the world. I ache to use words again how I used to, I ache to be able to walk along the beach and listen to the ocean, taking in everything in that moment and giving it back to the world…in words..in images…making art of life and inspiring others to do the same…

This is not what I do know and I don’t dare call myself a writer, writers write, I talk about writing. This makes me a talker.

So here I am writing my first post in a zillion years, Stumbling over every word. Pissed at myself for allowing the excuse of not having enough time to take away from myself one of the greatest pleasures I have ever known.

Although I have lost ground in skill and effectiveness and definitely in refinement I have gained  a courage I did not know before. I’m not only able to grow a beautiful garden I am tough enough to protect it with my shovel and I will.

I have learned that one can stay too much in the middle and that my fear of offending someones effected my writing. It effected my creativity and it effected my effectiveness. While I could say something very nicely it did not make what I was saying very important. In that I have changed because I believe there are things we should stand up for in this crazy world. I am finished being afraid. I will speak my truth , how I see it and to hell with anyone who wants to attack me for it.

And with that I will bid my adieu for now, I think I have broken through, thanks for listening.

Nancy

aka

Strawberryindigo.

Taking back my Mojo. #Strawberryindigo

 

The Wisdom of the Universe in a Blade of Grass

All of the wisdoms of the universe are held within a single blade of grass. If you look carefully enough you can see this in your minds-eye.  We are afloat an infinite sea of vibrating strings. Everything we know and everything we don’t know. Everything we are and everything that is, was or will be, is connected–It is all part of we. And in that lie the wisdoms of the universe.

 

It has taken me most of my life to realize this something that I knew instinctively as a child but had dismissed or hidden from my conscious mind.

Ever listen to the silence between everything else?

When we grow to adulthood we leave behind our childish ways, we assimilate and integrate with society, many of the beliefs and instinctive truths we held dear as children are washed away with grown up ” rational” thought and much of our free thinking and creativity is lost at sea.

 

People look for answers, they have a need to convince their rational minds what the heart already knows. They flock to gurus and philosophers and there are no shortage of those who have all the “answers”. In actuality,  the best guru is a child who remembers the universal truths that are born inside every single one of us.

 

Lovely Pink Anemones from my mother’s garden.

I remember spending time in my mothers garden; lying in the grass, and the way the grass smelled and how the breeze gave me goosebumps. And how the trees swaying made shadows dance across my eyelids.  I remember watching the clouds pass by so effortlessly.  It seemed the moments lasted longer and I savored each one as it melted into the next.

I remember how connected I felt to everything in the universe and this was no big revelation to me.  I did not need to be taught this, I don’t think any of us need to be taught this.

I knew that everything within my vision;  from myself and my cat and the bird he was eyeing in the tree, to the ant and the worm and to the tree itself. I felt connected to the very soil I stood upon and to the sky over my head and every person and all life on this planet. I would see everyone as a friend.  And I thought this until I was about 4 or 5 and then something told me, I don’t know what, but something told me to put a lock on those ideas and stick them in the back of the closet where I would throw my old toys. There they would stay until my mid thirties, when I started to wake up again.

It was in those dark , still and silent nights when my mind could stay quiet enough to hear the whispers of my soul that I began to catch glimpses of the light. I learned the more that I listened the more I would hear. I also learned right off the bat that most of what I did hear at that time in my life was not good. My heart was sad and my soul was lost and lonely.

It is in reaching a bottom of sorts where I found the will to climb out. I quit a 20 year addiction to alcohol.  I returned to the grass and the trees and the tiny daisies in the lawn. I found my connection with nature was returning and I healed in the power of that wonderfulness.

Everything I have learned so far, through the words and actions of others, though raw experience and through the whispers of my very soul, have put me to where I am now and the realizations that continually dawn on me, leading me to believe that what is the most important is the intangible and that we are truly are intangible beings in a tangible world. And that what we seek is truly inside us.

This is just a beginning of sorts for me. A rebirth. A getting back to where I need to be. I have returned from an extended break from writing and blogging. I have much to write about. I am excited and happy to be back and to reconnect with some kindred souls ones I have met along the way and new ones as well.

~Nancy

 

 

Tiny wisdoms found here and there 

 

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

 

I’ve traveled all around the world to see the rivers and the mountains, and I’ve spent a lot of money. I have gone to great lengths, I have seen everything, but I forgot to see just outside my house a dewdrop on a little blade of grass, a dewdrop which reflects in its convexity the whole universe around you.
~Rabindranath Tagore

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.
― Thich Nhat Hanh

 

I would say that there exists a thousand unbreakable links between each of us and everything else, and that our dignity and our chances are one. The farthest star and the mud at our feet are a family; and there is no decency or sense in honoring one thing, or a few things, and then closing the list. The pine tree, the leopard, the Platte River, and ourselves-we are at risk together, or we are on our way to a sustainable world together, we are each other’s destiny.

Reality is expensive but dreams are free

 

 

Dreams live in the stratosphere high up in the clouds. They are free and are hanging around like low lying fruit just aching to be taken. They are seldom realistic but in reality real life is littered with unrealistic realities coming to fruition.

I have been listening to some Alan Watts talks, the one that’s been prominent in my mind is in which he proposes the “what if?”. What if one could compose 70 year lifespan into a night of dreaming? Dreaming dreams one could control; every night a different dream.  At first we would do all the things we ever wanted and then after we’d get bored with that–we’d go onto adventures, getting more risky and dangerous knowing it was all a dream after all. We would seek even greater thrills to the point that we’d make ourselves forget were even dreaming. We’d keep changing the odds and randomness until we arrive at the life we are living now.

This concept intrigues me, it seems so simple,  I can almost feel it just beyond the mind’s eye waiting out in plain sight for me to discover it. I have decided to run with this notion and become its fair-weather friend for as long as it serves me.

I have allowed the winds of fate to lead me around these last couple months. It has been an interesting ride, riddled with cute nuances, funny innuendos and interesting deja-vu.

 

After all we could be part of a cast of characters running rampant inside a shared lucid dream.

I have heard much conjecture on the subject in the worlds of science, philosophy and spirituality among others; what is reality anyway?

Some say nothing matters and reality is but a series of electrical impulses conjured by our brains.  Elon Musk and others, including astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, believe that there is a significant chance that our world is just an elaborate simulation created by an advanced civilization and that all we are our bits of data encoded on some giant quantum computer.

Some say we are pure spirit and we come from a far off place and will return there someday. I have attached myself to the idea that we are all just drops of water in a sea of infinite vibrations swirling over eddys and through currents.

These ideas however intangible are making more and more sense to me in the tangible world that seems so damn unreal. At this point I am ready to believe anything. And so I go on faith and hope and a certain expectation that things will turn out alright in the end. I found it’s better to go with the flow if you can,  but still keep an eye out for rocks.

Getting back to the lucid dreaming and the subjective reality. I have decided in true Aspie fashion to take the whole thing literally and just go with it.

Why not? I have tried the dour realistic reality for far too and in reality its a drag.

 

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.

~Albert Einstein

 

I can imagine myself lying there dreaming about myself pounding away on this keyboard. I consider this current “dream”. The back door is open slightly letting the fresh air and light in. I can hear the sounds of birds and I am content, a purring cat to the right side of me and a cup of warm jasmine tea to my left. I have hope in my heart and love in my soul; ready to just pour out.

And I think: Hey this is not so bad…

(....Alan Watts laughs at me from the ugly couch at the far end of the room…)

 

Biding you all a good night or day or whatever it is where you are…

and have sweet dreams…

 ~Nancy

Art by Trash Riot

 

“Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.” 
~Anaïs Nin

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“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.”
― Shirley Jackson

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Are We Living in a Computer Simulation? (Scientificamerican.com) 

 

It’s Your Trip

 

 

You are Magic

Never put limitations on what you can do, on what you can be. Society likes to put labels and limits on us; unspoken rules that can be and are being broken everyday. There has never been another you. Only you can contribute your own special magic to the world and this is your time.

Fear holds us back from being our true selves.  Fear of change, fear of making a mistake, fear of pain, fear of rejection, fear of nothingness…

There are many fears but they all prey on us in the same way. It is only by acknowledging them and shedding light on them that we can begin to attain mastery over them and thus ourselves.

There is a voice inside you that knows the way. It comes in whispers and innuendos illuminating the path with overlooked randomness and by intuition. Your heart knows the way. What the mind sees as a mountain, the soul knows is irrelevant.

We are all just beams of light. We shoot across the sky and play among the stars. Because it is all play. This. That. Everything. In whatever we do, we have chosen this particular ride, whether we remember it or not.

You are in complete control and you can wake up anytime you want.

You can listen to the voice inside you that whispers, that sings, that hums and sometimes screams. You can listen to this voice or you can go back to sleep and dream.

It’s up to you. It’s your trip.

 

~nlm

 

“The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.” 
― Alan W. Watts