An Evening Off The Beaten Track

Necessity for a quiet night. Enjoying "A River Runs Through It" along with a cafe Americano. Coffee shop thoughts. People watching and curious of Saturday night endeavors. What drives that majority of weekend activities. To what end will we lose ourselves to find ourselves. Crisp night walking home, foretelling my options for the evening. Arriving home-"Come on we are going to a hoedown in Bo Edison, should be a hootenanny!" Nights plans were set after that. The curiosity was sold at hootenanny-imagination rampant with hay bails and square dancing. Was in need of a new surroundings that night. Wonderful to get down to Skagit Valley and enjoy whatever was to be found.
Awkward directions left Matt, Tibbs and I driving around a one lane town-lost. We agreed Chuckanut drive would be excellent, seeing the San Juan lights and Anacortes at night. Luck will have it that we find mile marker 8-the missing link to the directions! Three of us walking down a long road to music at the end of it. Fog was beginning to seep in and dew the grass prematurely. A chilly night to be warmed by bon fires, dancing shoes, poi fire dancing, and fireworks. A look around to find smiling faces to greet three strangers. The spectrum of ages was wonderful. All dancing and enjoying company freely. Stories and social talk over a plethora of food and drink. None was to touch my lips that night. Enough to be intoxicated by the situation and a bright moon of Skagit. Music was wonderful! Bellingham Jam band-the whole works along with an alto and tenor sax to top it off. Simply had to move you feet and snap those fingers. Most amazing was such a welcoming environment-exchange of smiles was understood and left at that. A true gathering-inspiring to create such free laughter. Male, female, gay, straight, cowboy hat or not, all having a good time together. As the crowd began to thin we followed suit after the band finished their set. Upon leaving we were told that Chuckanut has been closed for a week due to wash outs and rock falls... The night could not have happened any other way.

Heart of a saturday night

Tom Waits quiets restless thoughts. Allowing life to occur around me-falling short of ideals. That sound is known-unspoken and understood. Am I going to take a step? Any direction or path leads on just the same. How each is traveled makes the man. Knowing that regret is unnecessary. Feeling content from the innate sense of self. I reach outwards to grasp things within my own heart. Suffocated by my own inability to expand my bubble. All the options before me and I stand-stationary. Moving at the speed of earth rotation. That is just it, the world is spinning round-I float along eyes closed asleep in my river boat. Bobbing up and down with river discord. Always a bit scared to allow myself onwards under my own wake. Recognition of the choice. The only choice-love or ego. Tomorrow is a new day, but tonight is a new night of dreams and a life to be lived-free.

Ego the author of the piece above. Writing distress for the sake of adding to the worlds volumes. Unease comes from inside-a mindset within my realm of control. Worn leather reigns in my finger tips atop an imaginary saddle. Powered by strength of will and vigor for life's ride-a full circle in the end. A circle that never repeats but travels on just the same. Surrounded by covered mirrors-bent, elongated, broken or polished perfection, all life perceived reflects the individual viewer. How to view The Yellow Rose without naming it? Essence no language can formulate-an innate understanding of seeing it for the first time. To view and understand being in one is to see in all.

Another for the world's volumes-no longer within Greg or I. "I am not sure which one of us it is that's writing this page" (Borges, Jorge Luis)