As with any living creature the differences are some what interesting… each has a set of genetic tendencies and then they have personality… they will react as their genes tell them and then they will add a bit of their own making into it… what they learn from the experience of life and a little bit of their own mixture of like and dislike… as with them so it is with us… while we are all human we do have tendencies that make us unique… we have traits that separate us from the entire mass of humanity… those traits however are what sparks interest… if we truly were all the same and reacted in similar ways to similar stimulus how interesting is that… we all know we can be trained and forced into molds… we can adapt to change and go with the flow… butt what truly separates us is the times when we take out own path or create one…
Fall settles in slowly… the soft days surrender to the cool breeze of evening… wrapped in a coat a short nip in the air that rustles the leaves and swirls the scent of newly stoked fires… fall rubs the summer and opens the gateway to harvests and celebrations of color… it is a time for recollections… for taking ones turn at the podium of life and taking account of the leaves we have gathered…
Years go where the previous ones have gone… into memory… and then beyond… they are lost in recollection as the specifics of one day to the next… unless of course they are filled with out of the ordinary trials of one sort or another… for the most part there have been births and deaths… on the fringes of our lives… they have meaning for the passing of time… what we considered old when we were young we have surpassed and gone beyond by a stone’s throw… so I must seen ancient…
There is also a quote that goes along the lines that we can’t change how a person reacts we can only change how we react to them… flexibility of self allows one to navigate some rather rough and choppy seas… the wind drives the sail and one has to be a master of the wind to know when to use what one to get the most from the circumstances that are unfolding before them… even to the point of putting them down and waiting out the storm… knowledge of what to do and when is the art of experience… the art of having walked the road and learned from the travels… I have always thought that a person who appears to remain the same is more an artist of change then those of us who have learned to adapt… for they have mastered staying in one place while the world around them is altered every single day… think of how much they have to adapt to change to do that… I myself would never wish to work that hard just to stay put… to get some where… well that is worth pushing the envelope of change as far as I can manage… live some time sis too short to knot stop and smell the grass growing… to listen to the birds singing or just to sit back and enjoy a sunrise or sunset… I am a bit of a romantic in that respect… there is truly nothing like an early morning walk to watch the sun rise… after spending the previous night watching the sun set and in between managed to wander aimlessly about just sharing the passing of time…
To one a blessing to another a curse… in one moment a relief from the day to day routine in another a sense of chore… a required… all things are blessings and curses… all moments are filed away by the perspectives we grant to them… one man gathers what another man spills… this is my canvas and this is what I choose to paint upon it… to some it would be a waste of time… to me it is the necessary relief valve of a long day… it is nice some times to have another person’s perspective… the stars never align perfectly so how else are we going to get a bit of reality unless we hear it externally… the internal clock is always either in tune or it beats like a drum… my internal dialogue runs the middle road… not too far left or to the right… I may find fires to light and dogs to restrain butt still the road is the middle one… are we blessings… most of the time… are we curses… I suspect we are some times as well…
The flow moves to swiftly for me… I may head in the same direction as the current mode of understanding butt I am certainly not moving with the flow that moves others… so much is lost by the many moving in mass that even when I am walking the same way… I am walking not floating with the tide full tilt toward the rapids in a rush to get there from here… as you say I am in awe of the surroundings and the other treasures that unfold as the road rises up to meet us… I want to see what is around the next bend not in an instant butt as it slowly presents itself to the picture before me…
Traditional is a better place to be I believe… the traditional provides comfort with style… modern is well flashy and trendy and for the most part not for comfort… so I yield to the traditionalist in me and go with the styles that enhance the room and the situation we wish to convey… formal to me is not inviting… formal says look at me butt don’t touch… I want familiar and cozy… warm and inviting…
A home is never the design of one… it is the design of all… I have in all ways felt that a home occupied by one is a solitary cell of ideas… of style and lacks the expression of another’s hand… combinations bring out the best in a home… it says that here is my hand and here is mine… and from the smallest to the biggest or the youngest to the oldest we all leave our artistry on the walls… in the books… the scents and smells the wood work and the colors… a home is the culmination of the talents of all those we call it home… and even when they step out of the threshold they have in essence left their mark upon its being…
Definitions are required… it is how we separate and align the puzzles peaces each one is to us… it grants comfort to us to know that one is a bit left of center and another is a bit right… that one believes this and the other that… what separates each from the other is not their belief… it is their desire to challenge another’s and convert them to theirs… I am very pro individual… to each their own within certain limits… there always has to be limits… we have a penchant for self destruction without limits… so within the limits to each their own… just stop trying to convert me to yours… be who you are and read Joyce…
In time we do learn to leave our half thoughts in the air between here and there… the thought needing to find a home… the answer not yet formed in our minds… a wandering half ass… half horse of a thought… part zebra and part camel that has not yet taken one form or the other… trusting it to the electronic highway… the circles of water over the tide… the current of change… some time just writing and then speaking the thought out loud makes it come to the light of your imagination… I believe we talk and talk and talk about some thing until all the unnecessary words get out of the way and we arrive at the core of the words we wish to exchange… to do that there is a sense of unbinding trust that each can leave a package of half ass half camel half horse resting on the other’s table until the spark of inspiration takes the puzzle and puts it into the proper frame of mind…
As any artist I wonder about the experiment of creativity I am embarking on… is it of any value… does it matter to anyone beside myself… moments of creative uncertainty… especially when the initial spark has left… where does the band go from here… is their another who can step out from behind the drums and be the front… who wants the spotlight of creative inspiration… the answer is know one… what it means is that the spark has to now come from me… it was of my own making all along… this I have come to over stand… it was never the other as much as I wished that it was and used that relationship to drive the creative flow… in truth we are our own muse… if it does not dwell within us it can knot come from us… the gift is hue… the method by witch we extract it well that may take some retooling…
I wish more people felt as free as I do with words… that they are willing to take the risk… not that I am in the market for forty people to correspond with… I am just mystified by the rigid walls that people live within… it is what they feel safe within and even those who say they are open are very much not… it only takes a couple of responses to find that out… butt I will give them the nod that they at least leaped into the whirlpool… I have made a few very good friends… it just feels strange… surrounded by water and dying of thirst… weird…
Perhaps that is the blessing and the curse… that is the crux of the cross that one bears to hold… water… water everywhere butt knot a drop to drink… yes that is the degree to witch we follow… here is the opportunity to match words on a canvas and the ones that step forth are really wonderful and energetic and gifted… and yet you feel the sense that more want to butt they feel entrenched in the water that surrounds them and while they are thirsty and want to drink they deny themselves the satisfaction… or perhaps I am just nuts…
Conversations about nonsense… the best trials and errors… old spies in the new tree… old sparks in the new fire… a new hand in the cooking leaves the old at odds with the knew that was and the knew that will be suddenly turned over and steaming from the oven ready to dip and sealed with a kiss and cooled on a plate awaits the cup of tea and a sigh that speaks of the sudden wonder of relaxing in…
Certain times strike chords in ways… seasons do that… spring holds promise… summer the lazy and relaxed… the fall the harvesting of the toils of spring and the coming to the end of journeys… winter is a time for sleep and for remembering the past as we begin plans for the new… can we ever be whelmed… under or over for sure butt just whelmed… a simple moment of being whelmed… myself I find the need to be over finds me more than the under… being under is not for me a necessary wonder… being over can do that to me… so the time times and the turn of the season over whelms me not for the changes the season brings butt for the turns that times brings… the care of others is a necessary wonder… it is some thing we all master in our own way… some better than others… some less so… I am probably the last wall one falls on… most find me intolerant… that is because I am intolerant of not… I tend not to accept it of myself… not the most endearing old cuss… butt then that is me… a bit of the old rat hidden within the cheese…
I am truly not looking for perfection… what I am seeking is the fearless imperfect willing to make mistakes… that willingness is rare and I find that when I am there with some one it makes for more interesting conversation… for more challenging topics… it stretches the fabric a bit more and more in all directions… that daring and willingness takes a unique courage…