The state of my mind gives and takes… some are worthy of the weight they apply… others are less so… some are truly burdens that we bare with our soul… others are choices we make that bear us down or lighten us up as required or desired… some are connected to others… some are expressions of a desire or want that can be… others are just simple wishes or dreams or this would be wonderful sort of romantic ideals of wealth that are well dreams… would be great to have unlimited financial capability to do what we wish… such a wish is well for me just a wish… butt I can dream about it… perhaps one day it will unfold by some stroke of good fortune… most likely it will knot butt I can still have my dreams…

The words we use carve out our place… this is our section of time and we get to put our initials in the tree that covers the peace of territory we place the thoughts and wonders our minds have created… so we learn to use the words as they feel for us… the thing about dreams is that they do come true in a way… my experience tells me they unfold in ways we would not imagine… butt in a way they do come true… especially ones we have for others… we can dream for others… and eventually they do come to pass… and so it goes that we continue to dream… we wonder why and we wonder how and we let our minds float off on the river of dreams until we come to some stare of being or place that we are at peace with… draw ourselves up onto the bank and sit with feet in the water to stay connected to the wonder of being at peace with self and soul… a precarious state as it changes so easily butt still when we find one we dive to stay with it for as long as we can manage… the dream of time settles in and we drip with wonder… such is the tide as it washes in…

Nothing lost nor gained… nothing is ever accomplished by doing nothing except nothing itself… strings of nothing never manage to hold or to have… they elude and miss they are by nature nothing at all… illusions of a sort that trap one in a moment safe and secure… nothing is an unreal dream… there is in all things actions and reactions… we can dive below the radar of others for a very long time… for a life time in fact and never be seen or heard and then in the passing of time our thoughts are fallen upon and seen for the first time finally and discovered… the greatness of a thought while never lost is some times lost on the generation it is thought in or discovered in… genius is not seen as such… artistic talent is often grasp as time goes by… nothing is truly lost… butt the larger gain is at times gained by those who come after as opposed to the one who generated the concept or the idea…

There is that highway of change that we all step into… school is one of them… religion… politics are others that are very wide streams of thought and diversity of colors that takes time to navigate and realize that we are suppose to be learning to think for ourselves… we are suppose to educated in the art of learning for a lifetime… that the purpose of education is to open the mind that that we cultivate thoughts and weigh them against other ideas and come to a consensus that balances the individual with the larger whole… religion and politics are at odds with that ideal… religion and politics teach strict rules and lines of thought that one does not challenge or be forced from the mold… tight walls never suited me… so I waded into the river of learning and found that I was a very square peg in a some what rounded universe… so I managed a square degree of sorts and began life outside the world of parents and siblings and found the round wheel of my nature after a journey of tension and stress… the culmination of effort to be myself… to enjoy myself… I am still seeking that peace of my own mind… not in the same way… butt in many ways at once…

The singular alone in the crowd where’s Waldo… where is the true me in the avalanche of others that are streaming forth… where is the one spot that is truly mine in this seas of mankind… what I found is that it is where we stake our claim… where we choose to build our foundation… our walls our bridges and spokes to our wheel… I am alone in most crowds of people as I wish to melt into them as oppose to be the voice of one… my voice is not a true voice of change… my actions are not those of a true pioneer… my choices are my own way of carving out my particular sense of peace…

The courage I allude to often is a courage of leaping into a relationship of words and ideals… a leap into sharing what comes to your mind… to be willing to write down what you are truly thinking about without edits or rewrites or dwelling on the canvas until the final stroke is done… it is about the raw nerves of the moment as you read and write and just let go… the experiment is about letting go the raw emotions to get to the core… the central peace of an individual… to give voice to the inner child… or the older child… or to take the diamond in the rough and grant it an outlet that stirs emotions and waves… but allows for the music to be heard… the words to be written… the pictures to come to light… and then to share them… to leap upon the wall and draw patterns in time…

Endearing is not one of my thoughts about myself… my mind does not have space for endearing or anything that another would place at my door… my mind does not work in those fashions… or in any fashion that looks towards what others will think or feel about me at any one time or another… I do what I do because I do… and yet that is not entirely true or false… there are factors that I consider at times… mostly I am reacting…

Unexpected is a word often used to describe me… unusual… nuts… crazy… lunatic… are some of the other words that have flown my way from time to time… people just miss the point of it so often that I stopped explaining the ambiguity… the so called miss spelled words the larger pictures and the writing in between the words that so many just miss completely… there are moments when some one goes back and reads a past note or letter and comes back after a long time away and has finally grasped the heart of the matter… often it is beyond time to deal with what was there at that moment butt it is some what heartening to know they finally got the message… they finally have eyes to see what is before them and what is possible… the underlying theme of what is written here is that stirring of the creative process that screams yes you can…

The idea of light in the dark has possessed me at times… a beacon of some sort that points the way… not a leader… or a guide… not an attraction for moths that seek light to burn themselves upon… a direction… a possibility that sparks a light within… that is possibly the flint to the stone that strikes the tinder to flame and grants light that another can carry forth and see… sense perhaps is a better term for themselves… find your way with light and walk where the trail ends and blaze a way of your own… seek in the light an avenue of change that fills a void in your being… a match for the straw that we hold that flickers for a second to show us a means to get home and peace…

Never being a book worm myself until later in life and having the luxury of an entire library to wonder through I lack the possession of books except for a rare few… I wish I had saved the ones from youth butt they are readily available if I wish to reread them… I can’t say that I was a avid reader in my youth or at anytime really… I read to enjoy the story or the characters… some strike me others fall away… my mind never grasped the what is the author telling us deal… just let me read and enjoy the thoughts of another’s mind… butt reading was the art of learning… it taught lessons that I wished not to know… so it was a door closed for a long time… now I am more open to the folds of literary wonders… if I had the time and the inclination… a library is a warm and enjoyable place to cuddle by the fire and read…

So many words and so many angles to consider as means to achieve the apex of thought… witch one is the one that strums the correct chord within that sets the music free… we fine tune the instruments of our creativity… and yet we find they are at times dull or out of sync… they fall and rise to the moments… the perfect moments are often those we never imagined where we let go ourselves and become the notes… the letters… the words themselves… we are the expressions of self…

Color filled illusions are broad in scope and limited in definition… when we make another stop to think because they never considered the possibility we have that singular moment to explore with them… a wild ride on a roller coaster perhaps or a simple shared moment of awakening of the imagination that imparts a smile… it is that spark of madness that we must never lose of toss away for it takes a serious moment and allows us to reawaken the wild child of dreams within us…

Relationships never leave us… for we are marked by them… marked by the touch of a human soul… heart on our soul… on our heart… fleeting as relationships are they mark us and we learn from them… we do put them behind us in time… after spending the necessary time to find the proper perspective for each in our lives… I am some what wiser about time and healing than I was earlier in my life… I would rush into time… to forget… to heal the wounds of my heart… I found solitude to be my angel of mercy and silence to be my sword of justice… I would not go back and relive those feelings for fear of losing myself in them once more… I still even now today feel deeply the relationships mi have had in my life… sentimentally as well as physically they challenge me… to each the door opens… to each the doors close… to me they are at my choice and solitude of mind to remember or to put aside the dream… I am not an easy person to know or to over stand… the methods to my madness are changing with the tides… one never knows where the river flows or the birds find shelter in the storms of my mind… I use the opportunity to take the art of one and connect it to the art of another… once those ties are bound together the water covers the rocks and the trial slip away and suddenly what was a very difficult passage becomes one that is easily managed… and the water fills the void… and the tide floats the ship away on a different course… such are the winds in sails and under ones wings… such is the foundation that holds the legs up and the maintains a view toward tomorrow… our choices fill the time and we when we do make them… we choose to take and to leave… as I have and will continue to… and they never have to match or be equal or balance or come to some equitable solution… each finds their balance in the tide… and goes with it… it is important for me to remember that the emotions I feel are not shared emotions… they are simply what I feel… they have need only to myself and to those who wish truly to know… those who have chosen other wise need knot know the depths of my heart and soul beyond what they can ascertain themselves from the words I have shared with them… life is an emotional sea… and we can only share those with ones willing to know the true self that stirs within… most wish not to know beyond the façade…

One is that sense of being… an awareness of self… it is both a lonely isle of wondering and an exciting culmination of awakening… it is solitude amidst the crowd… knowing one’s self is a great awakening to the possibilities that are all around… if we know ourselves we are capable of accomplishing a great many steps in life… knowledge is the balancing of self with the world around us… it is what we are aware of knowing and knot… yet so much more exists that we are unaware of… therefore the more we know of the one the better we are at gaining the awareness required to move among the many… it is important to know what we know… to be able to put it to use… yet that knowledge is not as critical as over standing what we are unaware of or unfamiliar with or that we lack comprehension of… move into the areas of uncomfortable awareness… this is where one lacks the confidence and the awareness of what is going on… this is where one ahs to rely on their sense to learn more… that sense of being alive… that pure sense of self takes over and we are intuition and awareness… in these moments a sense of trust settles in… do we trust our inner truth to guide us or do we place our trust in the mass of the crowd… leading is not about doing what the majority of people want… leading is about doing what is necessary for the future growth… even if the step is a painful one now that will only yield fruit in some future time… leaders fail when they listen too closely to what the masses wish… these are fleeting issues that are momentary… leaders need to listen then respond not to the immediate task at hand only… butt also to the root cause… that is also true of self… we need to be aware of the immediate reaction and seek out the true cause… go after the cure for the disease not a reduction of the symptoms… once more the lonely isle surrounded by the many… we are unique in that the one… the singular hue is far more valuable than the rush of the mass… the rights of one are cherished far beyond the rights of the masses or the many… for truthfully the many can be swayed far more easily than one… the pressure to choose is pressed upon some one and made easy to side with the many even when they know the many are incorrect in their view… strength of self… awareness of the one is what we seek… the awakening of the soul that stands to the core of what they believe when with the crowd… and from outside the realm of the many… liberty is not free… nor is freedom… rights are easily manipulated by those who seek to control… modern technology picks and chooses what we hear and see so it is important to know more… individual ideas are not easy some times to sit and listen to… that is the core of freedom of expression… there is that line of freedom that steps over the line… words can cause harm as easily as a knife… so draw the line carefully… be aware of the sweep of the multitudes for they seek leaders they can follow along with… and it is easy if not centered in reality to be swept away by the crowd that will deposit you some where down the road after the fifteen minutes of fame we all at times crave… moths we are at times… butt perhaps it is better to be the torch or the light that guides a path then to be lost in the darkness or lack a single flame that gives some direction to one’s steps… walk were few step so that you can sense the force of your touch on the earth… if we influence one life then perhaps we have accomplished our destiny… cause know harm is to me a better more sweet influence… add spice that tickles the mind… add flavors that sweep us into the awareness of who we are and where we are on the circle…

Art is the culmination of taking what is happening and expressing it in another way shape and form… words are art or have artistic presence as a gateway to relieve the pressure of our reality… anger fear aggression are all natural emotions that ripple through us… at points we face ourselves and our choices… shit happens in our lives… births… deaths… and we choose how we move on… lives are tuned on a dime and we choose how we deal with the after… we can dwell on the before… or we can move beyond the moment that moved us over off of the track we are on to this one… why questions seek to blame… to focus ones ills on some one outside the realm of self… that is not to say that certain accidents are of our own making… they are not… shit happens… and we have to choose how to deal with the stinking pile… push it aside… wear it as a badge of honor… hide it under the rug… put is behind you now… learn from what has happened… some paths we would never choose to take if not for the circumstances that dropped us onto them… this is not a life I would have chosen for myself is a common statement from many a successful person who has taken a hit on their road and awakened to find themselves fighting to survive… or fighting for another to survive… some of us have easy and comfortable lives and we are never called forth to be other than one of the many who move effortlessly through life or so it seems… for all lives have many aspects that few other than the closest ever are aware… take the art of words and use it to siphon off the anger… the express the fear… the funnel the aggravation and frustration of where the road has turned and write until exhaustion fills the mind and the body… to all the pain flows freely onto the page… the physical… the emotional and the spiritual pane by witch one’s life is viewed… only after we have shed the words that flow to the surface can we shed the words we truly wish to reveal… only then can we find the inner peace of self… and begin… for all events in our lives can define us for the better or for the worse… it is our choice on how we deal with the world… as much as we would love to place blame on others and use the events of another to explain our situation… we have a choice to make on whether it will derail and define our lives or it will be a step in our growth as a person…

The path ways twist in their turns over and over… a thread weaved across others… a web of decent indecency… a wisp or is that a wire… a string follows the eye and turns me over and under… possible inn two impossible the probable to the improbable… a simple twist of fate… a quarter turn of the clock… a switch over then under the scent of the hound at the heels… the logic of illogical thought lacks well logic to figure it out… over or under the clock crows once then twice then once more for the wisdom of the aged to come out from behind the door…

Not all wanders end in the same sentence… some words linger in the present and move with us into the future past… the tone of the words begin with letters placed upon letters… the soft refuge of time spills forth into the glass… we sip at the wine and let the influence flow over us… a warmth that flows inside out… at some point the effects stop at the head and we tip to one side or the other… the day rolls on and we sip a bit more until when the tide rises over us we give in to the subtle wave of the motion of the eyes over the sky… sleep with a chance of dreams…

I took a slight turn around the bend… been rather odd of late… my mind in many places at one time or another… listening to the words writing and listening all at the same time… a drink in hand and a hat to toss to the wind… hold on and yet the fingers slip away… do the words have meaning or are they rambling nonsense… a little of both… what ever breaks the mold and opens the door way… the shining star of the crashing wind… the cold blast of the past across ones lips… some times the nonsense is what trips the locks and opens the mind to what is possible… at least that is how it works for me… a moment or moments to step away from the wind and get cuddled up… what is the slight access that can break the bank… just the silly being the straight and narrow corridor to sanity… the slight turn is all it takes to go from the possible to the impossible…

Slips come and they go… slips await the return of the waves to nestle in with the ships at night… slips create the calm amidst the rising wind and rain… a slip awaits the calm cool breeze of summer… one slips in and nestles close to the sounds of the open shore… waves washing in and taking out the worries… hard it is at times to keep a worry when walking along the edge of tides… they slip away… go for a swim and never come back… get lost in the breakers or just float way… worries seem small in comparison to the expanse of the tides… what ever we believe it is small in comparison to the water’s edge and beauty… to the hands of time what happens today is a grain of sand… so we slip in and we slip out unnoticed by the moment only by the imagination…

Add to the moment weigh the average against the joy… the usefulness of purpose… the money is not the point of it all… the tangled web is weaved in the offering of the lesson… I often think that is one thinks they are they are… other wise they are beyond the thought of it being as another might consider it… though my experiences with vices are of a more unworthy type… the kind that split families and destroy lives and leave scars that never heal… the path of such forces are not as we would think… they are sly and sinister robbing the one and the others of self…

The thought nestled within the thought is that the journey is what awakens us to the talents we do have… what eludes us is obvious to others… trials are the means by witch we are forced to use the skills we have… we go in search of something tangible and return learning about the wonder of conversation… of being in the present with some one… of being there in a time of need being more valuable than a diamond… that in the end things are insignificant… presence is what truly matters… we do seek because we are always learning about ourselves… we are beings that require a process of change to grow up… to grow out… we learn that we know very little… it takes time to over stand that knowledge… when we are young we believe we have the answers to all the questions… we tend to be simplistic in our youth… we see differences not as gems butt as means of division and we believe that though giving we gain… while this is true it is a simplistic ideal… we gain by being true to self… by seeking ourselves in the midst of others… of sharing our ideals and being open to alternatives that stir the emotions… our imperfections are what other see as ideal virtues… as strange as that is more than once a person has complimented me on what I consider to be a detriment… we learn that we are able to adapt to the changes that face us… to be present in lives and by doing so to enact a positive force for good… we are imperfect… butt that does not take away from the moments we share it adds an element of wonder to how the peaces fit…

I stopped looking for the perfect fit a long time ago… perfection is rarely found and often it is situational… I stopped by the side of the road and waited a long time for the laughter to return to my voice… I found the harshness of the past few weeks difficult to consider… I have never been one to step away… even when I need time in a bottle I cap the bottle and take it with me… the truth is the road requires that I make my own way and not worry about the choices of one or another… each has their own row to hoe… I stopped looking for the perfect fit to my wheel or peace to the whole that brings the magic of all together… the final shard is the hardest one to find and to hold onto… once inserted we feel that sense of completeness that sense of peace that flows from deep within the folds of ones being… a ripple of perspective… in life there must be hellos and goodbyes… as humans we require beginning and endings… we learn that balance is only achieved when we balance the correct amount of openings at any one time… I stopped looking for the rising sun or listening for the voice in the crest of dawn… my thoughts have turned inward to myself… my world has turned inward toward the branches of the tree… it is fall and the harvest is upon us… so with the seasons so goes our life… we dream of the silver sweeps of silent oaks… of the passing of the wind… I stopped looking for you around every bend… in every crest of a wave… in the words and the music… in the silence of the songs in the old tho0ughts that swim in my memory… there does come a time when we have to listen to our own selves once more and put away what is past and more forward to what is… some we are meant to hold onto for a moment… others for times upon times… and some for the shortest or briefest of moments… we never know when we collide what it will be… parting as Shakespeare said is sweet sorrow… such is the way of change and growth… and we all change and we all grow… it would have been nice is all I have to say… it would have been nice to have the moments to say all that needed to be said… butt such is the cruel nature of life… when you have the time the words are not there… when you don’t they seem to flow like water… some words are meant to be said eye to eye and face to face… not in flashes of anger or in fear of loss or frustration of past slights or indifferences… some can leave the past and walk away from it easily… some find the flow of time a continuing lesson… some words need to be said in the parting of sweet sorrows… and yet in the silence of my deepest breath at the center of my soul I am at peace finally with myself…

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…

We sense… each has an ability to see without their eyes… hear… feel… taste… scent… and s sixth one intuition that speaks to us of what is before us… we navigate life by the sharpness of our senses… when one is taken away… the others step forth to create the necessary vision we need to move forward… in a fog we hear and feel more acutely… in a roar of noise when our ears not longer can separate out one sound from another our sense of sight perhaps step forward to lead us… and so on and so forth… through it all we have an affinity for one sense over another… most see things as they unfold… others hear about them… feel them in their being… we have this range of perception that allows us to see what is all around us… we use these tools of our being to walk the world in witch we live… to imagine a better set of circumstances or to just enjoy the rising or the setting of the sun… we sense our way through one moment at a time…

Circumstances dictate how I respond… situations are not in all ways perfect for my particular sense or frame or style that I use to define the world… ie… no punctuation… no particular stops once started… how does one read this and not go is he mad… the answer is yes and know more than any other person… the answer lies in the past… coming from a place of structure where all things had rigid walls and doors and bridges and means in witch to say or do… how does one revolt… how does one take that revolution of creative spirit and use it… this is my revolution of a sort… this is my outlet of creativity that I spin in endless ways with dots to say stop one thought begin another… it does take a wandering eye with a sense of the inner being to grasp the soul that awaits within… some will read this and go nutter… others will find the thread that exists and ignore it… the very select fee see behind all the words to the core of the solitude and peace that rests beyond the avalanche of thoughts… those step through the fog of the world framed as I do as they do and come face to face with the individual one to one… that is a moment where reasons lapses and wonder begins…

There are what we consider classics in movies… ideals… history… writing… literature… and movements or actions… the classic response or the classic action that is expected… as we grow we learn that the classics are such because of their poignant nature in certain aspects of our lives… they have survived the ravages of time and come into this generation from previous ones because they are tried and true… their newness is from the modern dress they wear or the sounds of the modern life around them… butt they are classic in their nature… that is not to say that all aspects of life can be dealt with a classic action or response… some require new thought and new concepts that are based on the foundation of classic thought… from the past flow we… from that witch has come before do we venture forth… there is that love of the past that the classics unfold in my mind… and still the stories can be retold in modern terms and we still find the moral lessons within the pages… in truth we rarely deviate far from the classical lessons of hard work and being true to self and family… take care of those around you and find time and patience for those who suffer… take what you need and leave the rest for another… do know harm… mankind is your business… all the lessons we need to know rest in the pages and words of those who have wandered the earth before us… all we do is put them into play with the trappings of the technology… it is not very difficult… though the world would like us to think so… and some times we do get trapped by the veils of deceit… the images of ease that is granted to some and not others… butt in relationships these classical elements hold true to form… grant your heart to many butt your soul to one… live with purpose and an ideal… be a fool for love and nothing else… be willing to go the extra mile or the extra yard or the extra inch for those you love… love not just with your emotions butt with your entire heart and soul so that every fiber of your being radiates that emotion… these classical thoughts are everywhere we look… they exists in every structure and every step we take in life… they are so common and so perverse in our lives that some times we forget from whence this all comes… we are in our won ways classic examples… some of comedy… some of tragedy… most of us a little of both…

Our definitions of self vary by the mood and the moment… they swing as the winds move us and shake us and we dwell in the chasms of our hearts and souls… at least that is my impression… that is my experience with myself… I am first and foremost not accustomed to the open discussion of me and who I am… it is for me an internal dialogue… that for the most part escapes my ability to create prose or rhyme about… who I am is best described by others… it is at times when I feel deeply that I have left a thread or dropped a moment that I search inside for where and come away seeing a bit more of the misses and the drops then perhaps I should… at any moment in a mood I could describe myself one way and then in a matter of time find that definition lacking in completeness… we are more things then we know for our contributions are beyond our eyes to see or ears to hear… I will take another’s definition of me and weigh it with mine and accept their opinion a bit more… that is not to say I will agree for all eyes are tainted by perspective… and all by the experience of touch… so for me I would weigh the thoughts of another with my own and come away with some thing more…

The wheel turns and unless you are within the center of it you get quite a spin or you get thrown off by the centrifugal force as the motion and speed increases… better to be one that moves along the spokes to gather at the center and share in all the words then to remain at the edge feeling every bump and stone that the wheel passes over… the ride does not have to be so very rough and harsh on ones constitution as some would design it to be… we can find comfort in the many voices heard and shared… tragedy brings those voices out readily… in times of great joy there are in all ways voices of discord… not in times of tragedy though… in those moments all pull as one as if the presence of many can drain away the pain of one… the same is true of the art of conversation… the art of writing of sharing the words across the space of time and national borders… ages… different genders… backgrounds… political… social and religious ideas… the more that is put into the pool the more we can begin to grasp the similar fibers… there will all ways be extreme ideas that for a time grasp the national stage… they fade as radical quickly… once more we fall to the classical ideals… move to the center of the wheel… hold fast to the line that it runs… it will not be straight and narrow as it seems… butt its deviations from the course will be less and the results will be consistent and true… and all within that scope of experience will be better for the granting of self… the gift as I have often said is not the valuables or the wealth that one accumulates or is willing to share… the gift is in the hue… the desire to share of self to give opinion… to have patience and grant time… that is the true wealth of what is here… some want tangible gifts that show one cares… they hold the paper as a sign of the strings that bind one to the other… it is not the paper… or the ink… the connection is bound not in the tangible presence even… butt in the ether… the intangible presence of one’s heart and soul nestled with another…

I have never minded the truth or the reality of one person’s inability to share… or their need to remove themselves from the forest of trees that dominate my world imagined and real… I have never insisted that anyone do as I do or play as I play or create as I create… I do my best to describe the uniqueness of what I do with what a person sends to me… to explain how a single phrase can become a full page dissertation on a single word they chose to use… that my mind is at times a raging inferno or river or flood of expressions… that I for one never stop to wonder where it all comes from or how it comes… that to do so limits my enjoyment of the moments I share… long winded and long on words… and then just as interestingly the flow can stop and be limited for a time… the ebbs and flows of live surfacing… I never mind that one when they are faced with this torrent step back and go not for me… or after a time they just put me aside as a some what interesting tangent that they took once… I never worry about the obvious… in truth when it comes right down to the core of my soul and being I am very much at peace… more so then I have ever been in my life times… so perhaps in this life time I have reached a place I never did before… that is not some thing we know until we have gone… some elements of life we will never gain or grasp or get our heads around… they remain mysteries for all time in human form… in spiritual form perhaps we will make a difference… there is all ways time to do some good… even at the very end… best to start when we can and do so for as long as we can… butt it matters not when we start… it matters that we do start… and that we do end… that we open doors and cross thresholds… that we close doors as we leave… that we walk paths with a light heart… the world has a way of making us watch more than we should… technology while good in helping us reduce the mundane of daily life to simple pushes of buttons some times confuses and reduces the enjoyment of the moments we do have by restricting us… easier it is to be at home… then to be out in the great wide open…

The art of sound is in the subtle nuances of change… usually the soft sounds have that ability to change the mood… butt direction can also be an important factor… just where does the sound come from and where does it run through… one has to feel carefree enough to play with the nuances of sound and direction… the changes they can accomplish are startling at times…

I do busy for a reason… busy takes the mind and puts it to the task at hand and when hands have some thing to do the mind has to focus on the motion and leave the other thoughts alone… I do busy for the reasons that it allows my mind to wander… to find an open place in the fence… to escape the routine that is unfolding and go for a run in the open field… busy is a means to get over myself… some daze there is that lingering obstacle of self that gets in the way… the forest of mind is a series of singular trees each selected for its rarity… each is a rare off shoot of the mother tree… all cut from the same sapling at one time or another… there is that similar accord that plays in each heart…

I have become a broken record of sorts… a continuous rambling mind set of indifference… hurt… solitude of being… it was the same then… it is the same now… of course that is not what the world sees at all… this creative outlet takes all of the angst… the rambling solitude of my mind and heart and weathers it… on the other side of the equation… in the real world… in the world where I am now… the possibilities are much improved… I have my sullen moments… butt they are fewer and far wider than at any time before I began to write in earnest… so while I may be repeating myself and reminding myself of the hurt and the silence I am also freeing myself of the thoughts that used to trap me inside… I have in some ways come many miles and undone myself in positive ways… while I may be that broken record repeating the lines over and over they are reminders to me of what was a long time ago in a place not too far away… let go… stop holding on to the anger and the fear and the hurt…

I will take issue with change… I say this is the way I am… I truly enjoy the way I am… what I am saying to others is this is me… this nutter is who I am… yes I am irreverent… idealistic… a realist a times… mostly I shoot from the hip… I don’t think it through… here in this gallery of my thoughts… I am not taking the time to weigh the circumstances back and forth… I trust that you the ones who I correspond with know that and over stand that I am reacting to what is said to me and trusting in my unconscious and conscious mind to find a place for creativity… some times I will succeed… at other times I will fail to grasp the essence of what when where and with whom… I am changing all the time my words have grown a great deal since day one where the weather was the topic and sex dominated the lines I wrote… in some ways I have remained the same… I am still sentimental and honest to a fault… I will respond if you write to me… regardless of the tint to the words… or the length of time in between… to me there is never a door that closes that I will not wonder about…or inquire on occasion… it may seem like I am careless or ignorant of another’s feelings… I am not… I fail to get out of me what is there… of the thousands upon thousands of words I am seeking the ones that related what I feel… most days I fail at that… most days I perhaps write one or two that properly conveys the essence of me at any moment in time… it is that purpose that drives me… yes I miss the ones… I know they wanted more from me than there was left… and I know that I could never be other then what I am… strange… in many ways I had a better hold of the world before I began to write then I do now that I can at least wander in my own imagination and express a percentage of what is there… I bore me with talk of me…

There are few trees in the forest of me… it may appear a crowded corner of the world butt in reality it is a very select clearing… the weird wild truth is that I do take care to focus on whom I am writing to and for… in fact in my mind I am sitting across a table having a conversation… what comes of that I suspect is a sense of being one of many and not the one… butt to say that I have a multitude of answers… or alternatives as compared to the singular… that is incorrect… there is in my mind each one as they are before me… now if what you are saying is that I have others to witch I speak that is correct… am I unique in that… know more than any other soul… we all have touches that influence us… should we reduce the possibilities down… to some that answer is an obvious yes… if I followed that pattern I would not be speaking with a number of people to whom I do speak… as I deal with the moving on… it is a moving on… a putting aside of myself… it will come out as a rambling winding sort of tapestry of time… butt would I give any of it up and forgo whom I have met along the way… certainly knot…

Dancing on the waves is as easy as the cloth… the hindrances are simple walls and bridges with tolls that one must account for… so one dances and shreds the cloth and when the mind is free one is naked and drained for the activity and the release of all the weight that we carry… and I have carried my share of weight of others… butt it is time as you have said to let go of that and let the birds fly as they may… and if the roads rise up to meet once more all the well… if they fail to cross ever again… at least I know for my part I did what was best for me… and that speaks volumes…

The avenue of time opens to the crest of the coming wave… a spark flies from the hearth and settles back into the embers… a gentle floating ash… suddenly ablaze and then cooled to ice and crumbing at the touch of one’s finger tips… the sense I make at times could fill a thimble… the more I grow the more I realize the less I truly know… the wisdom of time escapes me… the wisdom of the world eludes every grasp butt some how time has granted me a pass…

Children at times surprise us with their sudden awareness of childhood… as grown up as they appear to be they still feel the child within and the parent without from time to time… a child will play the notes of songs over and over until the edge of madness creeps in… and then they will leap at a moment’s notice to remember the past in the present…

Sweet thoughts and endless wonderings… a string of dreams held in the mind for others as well as some set aside for just the one or two when the tide is right… sweet dreams along the avenue of one’s mind swells the banks until they overflow the mind… enough is never enough when it comes to dreams and wanderings of the imagination…

Who am I specifically… the mystery is beyond my capacity to know fully or even singularly… the who escapes me… what I do know about me is the person I was once… that person is know longer available to me… not that I would wish to go back to that particular version of me… the rigid walls and borders that person understood so well is alien to me now… I could in know uncertain terms fit inside that square hole as I could stop breathing… the person I am now is all about this experiment in expression… for all one would say that it is about a particular person it is not… it was about the who the what the where and the why of my expanding idealism… it still is… though many people are called to express themselves in a free and open forum… very few really like the open and easy avenue… they say that is what they wish for an desire… a place to freely express and be accepted for who they are… where words flow freely… and ideas can be mulled over and shared… it is as you say… the desire of one to be speaking to one and only one… the desire crushes the ideal… and the ideal is what I wish to stir within myself and also within those who share the space with me… speak freely… write freely… share what the image of today conveys to you… what some thing and share it with some one you care about… some one you love… some one who stirs the mind… the heart or the soul or all three… I over stand that I am a hopeless idealist… that the blast of reality that slaps me from time to time is of my own making… it is as you have so eloquently written of my own hand… knowledge is a fearsome responsibility… therefore we do what is in our hearts more often than not… we go with the flow of our reason tempered by the emotions of our heart… the sense of purpose in our soul… I write here and share what I share to free myself of the thoughts… it is an escape plan that I never used when I was the caged beast of my youth and the rage of ideas came out as anger… fear frustration at whomever captured my intensity of thought… in the old me the pattern was fixed and narrow and angular to the eye… all things fit or they were cast aside… one person of all the ones I met in my youth saw the diamond within the rough exterior and the potential soul that dwelled there… one of all the people I knew… even family who should have known me better are shaken at times by the depth of my mind and soul… it is not that I wish to do that or to dance in the light for all to see… it is some thing that washes over me when frustrated by the cold winds… who am I… what have I become in the search of who I am and wish to be… I put my emotions on the line and had them discarded like they are nothing at all… so I must have done the same to another… to others… for the world turns and what we do unto others finds its way into our lives… I am sure I have failed to be the friend… the person… the man I should have been… and so life teaches us lessons that we either learn or we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes… the grand experiment of sharing has for all intensive purposes been a success and a failure… success in that I am more creative alive and I do share what comes to my mind… a failure because it has not produced the desired effect… it has not created the canvas where each feels free enough to share what is there… butt perhaps there is time…

This is not really difficult to follow… this is a series of mental tangents that flow from a thought that climbs another thought and so on and so on… the best we can ever do for another is to listen to the words they are willing to send and then to take some thing of the exchange and build a fire under it and let the wind blow a bit of heat into that and suddenly there is a fire glowing in the hearth that one and the other can sit around cup in hand listening to the crackle of the fire… there is one thing about me that is maddening to some I will respond… some times it takes a bit of time for me to find the words that are necessary for me to use… butt I never leave a spark unexpressed any more… if this experiment of sharing of mine has done anything for me it has led me to express what is on my mind… the only thing anyone has to over stand is that at some point in time the fire will blaze high and hot and hard… it only means that one ahs fed the fire a bit more fuel then was required… and be patient with the roaring for it is ever more sound than actual harm… we need an outlet that is creative to the heart to free the everyday from the shoulders and ease the day into the warmth of night…

Opportunities present themselves… some have walls and other bridges that need to be placed just so before an avenue of give and take is possible… in the time since I have learned to talk in swirling riddles and have for the most part exasperated a great many people… it has become my way… I am with time a less serious individual then perhaps I was once… I made so wrong turns along the way that the right ones tend to stick out as glowing beacons… it is my silliness that wraps me in weathered sheets… the amusement of my own making is the better of the time… we collide and make sudden stops and starts and crash into the fabric of our beliefs… it does not have to make sense… in fact the first sounds are really quite impossible to grasp for the reality is it will take years to find the words that need to be said… building bridges and foundations across voids are difficult endeavors in the best of times… and these for the want of anything are the best of times we are left with… we can’t complain about that at all… all we can do is choose to make some thing of the time we have… the rest sort of takes care of itself… the future is what becomes us if we are willing to step onto a similar path…

There is that saying of leading a horse to water butt lacking the proper incentive we cannot make them drink… the same is true of me… one can invite the world in for a view into the mind and an opportunity… a fresh canvas stands ready to be used… all it requires is a splash of some color or another to begin… who will step forth to do so… who of the multitudes invited feels confident enough to step forward and fill the void… the truth is very few have that sort of courage… I have my days where I reach out and for a few moments I have the spark and the sizzle to suspend time for a conversation or two… and then suddenly the air clears… a quiet interlude… I am far away the child looking for another of like mind to play with the paint of words… for the lucky one or two… the canvas fills the time… the latitude and longitude of a day so effortlessly that the page turns filled to the very edges with lines upon lines… collisions are perfect examples of the scattering of sparks of inspiration… and of the coming together of the doubts that fill minds…

In the course of events leading up to and away from any one event there are many steps I could have taken to grant myself a means to spare the heart… the purpose has never been about me… though some wish it to be about me and how I interact with them… it is what works… it is not about me in specific… it is about the other side of the equation and how that side either accepts or denies… I am not a noble sort… or a genius… or wealthy beyond means… I have made mistakes and paid for them… so be it… in this particular instance… it was my own desire to know that opened the door… I did in my heart wish to know for some strange reason this particular soul and mine are close for what ever reason… we couldn’t be more different in reality… your thoughts on the matter are extremely valid… and of course your logic about the ending is sound… some thing only ends when we make the choice to stop… to knot respond… to let it go… to take the key and not as I did throw it over the hedge and say it is in your court… it ends when I take the key and close the door and lock it and put the keys away… can I do that… I have never been one to close doors… I tend to leave them ajar as you say butt I am learning that some times closing pathways is the only way to move on… in this instance it is perhaps the avenue I will take… I in all ways feel that given time the door should be available to some one to stop on by… never liked the idea of the bridge burned or the doorway sealed up tight… in my own life I have benefitted from the extended hand that has reached out across time… perhaps I am foolish in my beliefs… butt I will take to heart the words and make my choices… silence hurts me more than anything I could have done… so I have to ask myself… if they are aware of that and allow it to be so… then perhaps they are not the person I believe them to be… and even if my emotions remain unchanged… it is a simple fact that theirs have… and I should respect myself enough to allow that to be… there are lines we draw… and to be truthful… can there really be a mending of the tare… can there in reality be a relationship with what is left in their eyes… so the choice is actually already made… it is as you say up to me to part the sea and leave it parted…

Expense does not equate to comfort… in fact the more expensive some thing is the ratio of comfort goes down… it is very rare that some thing expensive is actually a pleasure to either sit upon or wear… expense does nothing for me butt tell me what a person is willing to spend to be in with the trend that is currently sweeping this way or that… the current trend of fashion or decorating is the usually the most expensive followed by the trend for antiques witch is in all ways pricey due to the fact that they are fragile pieces of art once used for the everyday and now rendered as costly additions to any room… though except for myself witch to some I guess I am an antique the use of old styles is what I prefer… not originals butt well made pieces in a certain style that appeals to my sense of rigid right wing design…

Time will and time will knot… time sketches and traces our moods and thoughts into some thing we hold onto… after a time… in this case perhaps a very long and winding road of time hand will extend out… at one point I was sure enough to be unsure of how I would react… now I am sure that with each passing day that I would react less openly… the hurt is transferred from one side to the other… it is I suspect my own fault and I over stand that aspect… perhaps in another life time or two…

There are in the light a bit of a gap in the way we tide… and that gap is what separates us… and so it goes…