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Archive for the ‘Psycho-Bubbles’ Category

In the trees

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday on January 11, 2012| Leave a Comment »

On New Year’s Eve my children and I were on late night walkabout.  No snow, a breeze, lit homes and a last show of Christmas lights along roof lines, lamp posts, and in the trees.

Up the street, the pin oaks were whispering louder than usual.  We stopped to note the conversation.  White pines said little and the deciduous trees were downright silent.

Rounding home, our Norway spruce stands over 20 feet now, festooned with lights, pine cones for ornaments.  It caught my attention as my children ran in the house.

Deep, brilliant, dark, with majestic green leader pointing toward a waxing moon half hidden by clouds.  The tree spoke of  shifting years, of mystery and invitation to the unknowable – an eternal, ephemeral moment.  How far can flesh and blood go into that beckoning?  How far can a cellular creature blend and survive?  Never has the question, or the invitation, been more concrete.

I wonder.

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In Your Eyes

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday on December 24, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Made stew yesterday.  Had the strangest feeling I had worked with meat and plants many times – for millennia.  And I have.

Washed a pot today, same feeling,  a thousand years of wash-up, store, reuse.  Not the realm of deja vu, but of Being, once and again.

For all their diversity and unique individual nature, humans are collective creatures.  Experience, pain, action, inaction, curiosity and so much more.  Cellular, physiologic, emotional, and spiritual inheritance.  We flow – through day, lifetime, epoch – despite incessant belief in bodily punctuation.

The fundamentals,  food, shelter  – the needs of you, of me, of those that walked before,  and those that will walk after.  Witness, live, and relive the coarse rich necessity of our species.  Energy passing through skin, bones, blood, inhabiting new lives, seeing with old eyes.  Storied.

I have lived for a thousand years.

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Mirror mirror

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday, tagged on November 20, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Caught myself crying in the mirror.

Strangely beautiful.

I do not know why.

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A tale

Posted in Nature, Psycho-Bubbles on November 14, 2011| Leave a Comment »

A fire burned through these parts.  It had smoldered for years, contained.  The ground grew resistant to the heat, things died, were forgotten.  A lot forgotten. Critters fled.  A strange, strained, heated landscape.

Finally jumped its firebreak a few years back, consumed all in its path.  Hot, unendurable, more things died, what was left – ran.

Fire died back, died out mostly.  It was part natural, part man-made.  They jailed the fella who caused it, life sentence for the destruction he caused.  When a tree falls in the forest – someone cared.

Life is coming back, the rocks have cooled.  Critters starting to trust the place again.  Other men work to heal the landscape, plant seeds that grow only after trial by fire.  Funny how that works.

Part demon, part nature, fire.  This landscape will see beauty again this generation, better in the next.  Beauty takes time.   Sometimes beauty takes fire.

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All Souls Night

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles on October 31, 2011| Leave a Comment »

You know me.  For I am you,
sideways writing on a page.
You recognize and then forget –
for now.

You know me, I am you.
Know me, remember you.

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Off the wall

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, tagged on September 29, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Mirror, mirror I know so well
What of me if off your hook?
I cannot tell – it could be hell
with nowhere else to look

Mirror, mirror on the wall
What is it beyond you?
Mixed up things, unseen dreams
no lyric to form my songs to

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Tell me not your secrets
As you are so once was I
limited by the view

So I will come another day
To see what lies behind you
To dash for whispers before I’m crushed
Try to speak before I’m hushed

Mirror, mirror, gone to black
It will be some time before I’m back
For as you are so once was I
And now I’ve gone beyond you.

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Nightmares

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday, tagged on September 24, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Try this at home when alone, and fully alert.

Sit in a chair, or stand purposefully.  At the same time – clap your hands loudly together and sternly and sharply speak  the words wake up out loud.

I hope it works for me.

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Which is it?

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles on September 11, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Nothing ever changes, no it doesn’t – song lyric, Steve Nicks

Change is inevitable. Change is constant – quote Benjamin Disraeli

Constancy or constant change, which is it?

Of course, patterns do not change, they shift, revert, double over with laughter and skip forward in time, sometimes backward.  Maybe get so big they outgrow the screen, which makes us think things changed, but really did not.

And the background that always seems to change, well maybe it is just a small  something  that seems like it changes, but is really a square in a much bigger quilt, along the lines of those holographic principles.  Not that I know about such things.

And we who muddle and claim change,  only to fall back once again.  A tired story among stories.

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Secret things

Posted in Nature, Psycho-Bubbles on July 22, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Do you remember them?  The secret things.  Touchstones. When you were very young?

Big things like trees, and floors, envelopes, the corner space  inhabited by…something.  A picture you should not have seen, conversations overheard, strings you tied, the marble you took.

Troll doors, special stones, digging in the dirt – a head full, a handful, waiting for life to start.

And it did, and it flew, and maybe it never came back.

But for some it does, it did for me.  Unchained day and one trilling cicada.

Inhabited, forever…and a day.  Those secret things.

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Independence Day

Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday on July 6, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Blue sky, yellow balloon.

Or rather five balloons. With silver strings.  The number five – hieros gamos – one with the Other this time around.  I am me.

At the ball park, a scene never more beautiful.  Birds, breeze and the trees in attendance.

Was it letting go, or calling forth?  Excitement as the balloons sought traction in their natural medium.   Laughter as they percolated skyward and east.  East to new beginnings.

I watched them only until far and away – not though, until out of sight.  I need now  to see which way to go.  Soaring, determined, with sun glinting off their sides.

Far and away, my own Independence Day.

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