THINKING?

I often wonder at the idea of wisdom--How is one aware of its presence?

How is it defined?

It's not the same as knowledge--as knowing something.

I suppose it's like love and god--all around and undefinable.

Very available if only...

Don't dare box it or it will die.

GOOSE NOISE

Ah... the sun feels so good on my being. And the wind is at my back. Im at the place between with a bunch of geese, and though spring's full glory is still a couple months away, there are already signs of it everywhere, to include this sun. I've noticed while out and about that hellebores and witch hazel are blooming, and some trees and shrubs are showing signs of life in their wood. I even spotted a couple cherry trees the other day while on a walk with my friend Patrick that were blooming. In February?

That noise! It sounds like there is some chastising going on amongst the geese behind me. Nothing violent, just a lot of squawking. The geese in front of me are quite content walking about with their heads down munching on a green carpet of fresh new growth--grass and various herbs. There are three right near me which are not the least bit bothered by my presence. They are quite used to people. Some even think them a nuisance.

Perhaps that's why the bozo with the little dog made a deliberate detour from the paved path to this trail where I sit so his dog could get a thrill chasing big birds. Of course the geese were riled and flew off with a lot of commotion.

Nothing serious, though the incident makes me think that there will always be callous and ignorant people, just as there will always be vile and violent men who are quick to murder masses for material gain and power to control--presidents and puppets. But, will there? Always? Not if we can make a leap in consciousness--wake up. Is the 'leap' as simple as that--to wake up--to become conscious? The thought of it builds but the resistance is immense. There is too much noise and the dominant culture seems contrary to real consciousness. It itself has been built with distraction and deceit on a foundation of blood and bones. Still, I add my intent to the awakening.

How is it that in this age of information there is still so much ignorance? That there are too many too easily misled? The bonds of faulty traditions come to mind. We've let our personal sovereignty and responsibility slip. We've become to dependent in to many ways - mind, body, and soul - while maintaining an illusion of freedom.

Oh, for now I'll just contemplate spring--its signs of being are everywhere.

As it is on this earthly plane so it is on others. The seen and the unseen.

to WRITE

Have I got stories to tell.

I will always remember this one teacher of a writing class I took back when I was in my late 20s. More accurately said: I will always remember said teacher, and a particular lesson she taught--It was simple and obvious really: The best stories are those written with a base in personal experience. Write about what you know.

Well I've got some experience now (:

My last entry to this blog was June 27th of 2009. I was living at Everett's on Blandina in N. Portland. Im not going into details of how I ended up living there in this writing, but in time I will--assuming I will still be alive to write in some unknown future where I may decide to do so.

Everett was quite the character: A short, robust man in his late 60's with a balding head and long, white, locks of hair on the sides. He wore thinly rimmed glasses and often had a big as life smile. He also was pretty smart and loved to argue. Of course he couldn't do it with me 'cause the content usually bored me and I have not quite yet got the idea of arguing. I guess that's because Im a loner (was a loner) and usually dwell on what people say to me after the fact to see if it makes enough sense to apply to my life. I do like to listen though and he could definitely talk. I found him to be interesting - his behavior - and kind (so it seemed) and generous. Unfortunately I was not in the position to reciprocate that generosity.

Everett was (still is Im sure) a pack-rat and that to no small degree. I learned over my extended time there that, indeed, the whole household of male identified middle-aged men had its issues. I was living in a house of mirrors, and there were lessons to be learned.

Oh the stories to tell. And I will tell them but right now I am brainstorming on where to put them and how to organize them. No more agonizing and procrastinating, but contemplating and doing. And right now Im thinking that this blog will be a daily with an emphasis on lessons learned and questions unanswered and whatnot in relation myself and the greater community outside myself. From those with whom I seek shelter to those who reside on the other side of this hunk of star stuff spinning in the spinning.