Mittens and rock climbing?

Beautiful day in the neighborhood. Though the hood could not contain us. Sunshine required a celebration. A day to play in its radiant surroundings. Bright in our eyes and wonderful our smiles. Larrabee beach awaited. Exploring the carved sandstone with imagination and plastered excitement. Which routes to choose and dreaming of the far out. What splendid creation Puget sound waves create. Thick overhands and cracks by the plenty. The imagination and calmness of tree climbing in my youth. Though I was not timing myself this time around. Quiet and calculated-griping with numb fingers at times. Thus the mittens in between runs. The sense of exploration ahead of us. What lie around each outcropping of rocks was the anticipation-scouting with wide eyes. Energy spent and received from such magnificent naturally beauty. Quiet and sensuous harmony for all. Refreshed and smiling still.

G atticus

Formless

To drink the beams of the stars, let them pierce my body and flow out. Feet taking me high above the clouds, to mountain peaks touched only by the imagination. I wish to jump from the top and be caught by dreams. My soul trickling down with the rain. Big drops and small, they all land and bring life. Landing in the ocean, rippling outward to the seven seas. Swept up in the clouds only to land again in gentile fields. There I lay, face to the clouds. Soft zephyr dripping wheat down to brush my face. Tickling life back into life, for it was here all along. Here I see what the sun allows me to see, no interpretations, just love of life.

-G atticus

Wondering about Winter

Look up at those perfect fluffy snow flakes. Open up to them. They are simply falling, a weather pattern of absolute beauty. Softening all the edges encountered. Snow falls quietly, deafening the sounds. Or the world is quiet with snow outside. Cups of tea and cribbage are past times. Family and cooking. Having bread rise the old fashion way with a bit of TLC in the recipe. Some allow snow to be the cause of frustrations and holiday anxieties. No, no that is a choice. There is always one window into a better choice. Look at smiling faces and snuffling noses of all those youngens sledding. The snow may be gone tomorrow- so the only option is enjoying today. The presence and absolute love of the snow is unparalleled by the youth. Many love to walk in the snow, take pictures. But only those 5 feet and under really embrace the snow. A situation blossoming with opportunity of a play day anew with fresh powdery bliss. Take a page out of the snows book-slow down and never fight it for nature is surely bigger if the battle is chosen. Peace and happiness to us, everyone!

Joy of word play

It costs us nothing to visualize the moment. Awe struck in the presence of the woman. Heart is quiet, irrelevant to tempo chosen. But such brilliance to be found in this one. For the first time feeling from the inside out. Sensation of touch in every cell of the body. Imagination and curiosity streaming forth wildly. Senses are heightened to a new level of focus. Purely taking in. It is in the silence between thoughts that this presence of being lies. Such truth of this moment, the moment that starts all anew. Description of which is lost to words. Yet, an internal dialogue known at first new breath. The sensing without judging. Viewing without categorizing. A line is etched in this ecstatic present. Take in beauty for what it truly is. Then realize that you are in a participatory world.

This mirrors nothing of my current situation or sensations- simply enjoying words in a bohemian state of mind,

Gatticus

Posting for sake of

Good evening, it is a pleasant night in Bellingham. Quiet conversation with scrabble and music lulling. December nights arise too soon it seems. Daylight turning to a faded sunset with slight remorse. Too quick I say, leading on to chilly evenings. My nose is in a seemingly constant frost. Toes content only in woolies and slippers. Rest is satisfied with tea by the hour. A day to be lost in books, smiles surfacing with no thought-joy for the sake of joy. I do love walks this time of year, destined for a warm drink at the end of them. A roundabout of coffee shops with book in hand to be read. Educare - to draw out and latin informs. Though it is the time of year to cram in... interesting walks of life, not so much the gained at the end, but the process that holds all with ease. Simply must enjoy the tempo of breath-a sonnata with the soul in bliss.

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)