Sweet Young Prime

I’m not tired of being old. There’s magic in it —  a chosen peace and quiet — an on-demand kind of living — no great expectations looming.
Oh sure, stiff bones aren’t always useful and they can come upon the owner unexpectedly and suddenly — evicting the more agile one without due notice as if it was her home all along.
Gray hair is lovely and the longer it gets the easier it is to pull up in a pony tail and get it off the face where it can be a nuisance — also saving beauty-making money for things more like honey to the soul — trees instead of hair dye or hair cuts.
I think I’ll be tired of not being able to get any older. That idea isn’t appealing at all and — it isn’t a good idea to fall, so more care should be taken when you are no longer feeling quite so bold.
Yes, young people look so plush and fine while they’re in their prime. They don’t know yet that everyone goes gray someday, down the line that seems so far away. They need to be told to save their memories, and their minds, as they go along because they can be young forever if they choose — in their minds — when they do get old.
The treasure trove of life’s experience is cause for marveling — even if there is no one to tell.
I didn’t get to be a singer with bright lights and awards and clapping. I didn’t want to. But I still sing and I sing real pretty in my mind and I clap.
As I sit in the sun and feel the breeze and watch the ants and birds and cats, I praise the space of time that brought me to be able just to be — and savor every quantum segment — dreading, dreading, dreading my ultimate quitting this particular space in time.
The young don’t know that kind of savoring. But they will, in their time, when they too have passed their sweet, young prime.

incredible magic of being

The Incredible Magic of Being by Kathryn Erskine

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Back To Sleep

“You haven’t written anything yet!” the alarm for saving said. The page had been open for hours and hours and hours.
Gardening got in the way. And the mind stayed focused on that task, no stories seemed to be streaming in the brain while digging like so many other times — for instance, sleeping.
That was a good thing — a case of meditation.
Waking in the middle of the night, words fall out of the bed too — more awake than the person walking and sometimes the words are written down to turn into something come the morning. Sometimes they aren’t — written down, and it’s almost always cause for sorrow. The bed is too soft to grab the pen and the covers warm and the kitties waiting and eyes won’t open wide enough.
The words are clear, the body is simply just too tired — or is it lazy?
The crawl back in is heaven.
The kitties settle in again. Everyone goes back to sleep and there is hope to dream of something for the morning.
A tall, handsome man with curly light brown hair nuzzled in to kiss behind her ear and he whispered sweet things to her and laughed and twirled her around and grabbed her in as she tried to get away and then started cooking something for her.
That woke her up.
Why so often dreams of men?
Is she missing one?
It might just be.
It would be nice but only if he was as wonderful as the brown curly-haired tall man in the dream. Maybe someone not so tall or young like he was — after all, she’s old too.
He’d have to like gardening or at least like watching her garden. He’d have to like cats and dogs and pigs and cows and lizards and caterpillars as well as all the other living critters. He couldn’t drink milk or eat meat. He couldn’t hunt or fish. He’d have to do the housework, at least whatever he wanted done that she didn’t seem to get to. She might iron some of his clothes if he wanted, because sometime she likes to iron, but it couldn’t be on demand or every day — she likes too much to be free to play.
There she goes dreaming again not while sleeping.
That kind of man is as random as the chance that one was made at all.
But that miracle has happened. Why not one specifically for her?
Back to sleep to dream it may come true.

Trying To Think

Everyday’s a holiday where I am.

So, you don’t believe in climate change/global warming?
Well, I’m not smart enough to do anything more than weigh what other people say and it seems that almost all the ones in ‘favor’ of it, have not done much thinking or are somehow involved in politics or carbon credit profiteering (did I say Al Gore), and most who don’t ‘favor’ it have done a great amount of thinking — and NObody except for the ones who aren’t in favor of it are talking about weather modification, (warfare), or willing to really confess to the fact that 911 was a demonstration of advanced technology that could free us all from the need for oil or any other kind of energy other than what was demonstrated that day — the kind that is free.
Hmm, how can you tell who’s really thinking?
Hmm, let me think on that for a minute but while I’m thinking, let me start with the fact that I was 16 years old and in my junior year of high school for the first ‘Earth Day’ and we were all out with brooms sweeping the driveway that went through the bus lane near our school administration office in the front. We did it mindlessly because everyone else was doing it and pictures were being taken and someone had made us think that it was important for some reason. I can’t remember how now — I just remember being confused but also feeling like I needed to do it to ‘fit in’ and thinking that my smarter friends had some edge that I didn’t and I needed to take their advice without much question because they got a little aggravated with my prodding. I kept trying to think hard about what was going on, but all I got was others saying “just do it” kinds of phrases or reciting back what teachers had said. And I can’t remember at all what the purpose of sweeping was — I guess to clean things up a bit and get trash off the Earth??? We didn’t know then that “there is no such thing as away”.
I was just the age of Greta, but I didn’t have the smarts that everyone is claiming she has, I guess. But I sure don’t wish that I’d been autistic — I just wish there had been more open discussion about it all and that there had been someone who wasn’t busy just ‘doing’ to sit and talk about ‘it’ with.
So, you think Greta’s smart.
Actually, I have no idea. That seems to be what people are saying. When I asked ‘Google’ for her IQ, I got a bunch of links to what she’s doing to show the world “what it means to lead” or her Wikipedia page. “Think Globally, Shame Constantly” was the lead-in to one of the first few links.
Well, so why do you advocate for #VoluntaryRadicalSimplicityorComplicity? That seems to be your mantra and you chant that mantra a lot — so what’s the dealio?
Okay, here’s the thing, there are lots of other beings on this planet besides humans who think they are so smart and can go around doing whatever they please at will for pleasure, profit or whatever excuse they use and, for the most part, move all those other things aside so that they can do it, and seem to think that they come first in all equations.
I just listened to a video where one of those well-promoted, new, young, so-called leaders was pursing her mouth just so to say, “I don’t know that I will be able to feed my children in the future”. Oh, my, gosh. Why didn’t she think about that before she had those children was my very first thought. How entitled does that seem. Children? Plural. I think she needs to get off her bandwagon or at least point that finger back in her own direction and fess up to her part in what she’s so adamantly spewing with her smirking pursed lips. What animals need to move or be killed to feed those mouths?
So, you’re against people having children?
Sounds like it, doesn’t it? I can remember of being in my twenties and thirties and thinking I was madly in love with one boy or another and wanting to have ‘his’ baby. It’s biological. Somehow, by miracles of the universe, I managed to escape my biology and end up with none and I’m not sorry. I simply think that the world puts too much pressure and claims it as a default status and doesn’t give any room for alternative thinking. I just want to change the paradigm a little if I can: “It’s okay to not have children. It’s okay to not get married. It’s okay to be old and alone.”
Well that last part doesn’t seem so inviting, but you get the picture and even that’s not as bad as it may seem at first — actually, I quite enjoy not having anyone to answer to and kitties and doggies are great company and lots of them need rescuing — as do lots of children and if I were to ever have made a family, I’d like to think that I would have thought first of all the children who have been abandoned before I thought about making any more. Yeah, I get that biological drive, but we’re human after all and what makes us human is our brains.

So, you’re self-righteous and think you have all the answers?
Is that how you see me? I have questions for the answers that are spewing in my face as though I’m stupid enough to let them spew at me and never ask a question back and I think I’ve been trying hard to understand and might have a thing or two to add — but I’m starting to think that it would be better to keep my mouth shut because people need to do their own thinking after all and, no more than I do, does anyone want someone telling them how to think before they’re ready? I found my own way after all. If ‘they’ can’t maybe ‘they’ aren’t able and it’s not my place to say unless ‘they’ ask. It’s hard not to try to offer while London Bridge is falling down. Maybe so it must, who’s to say. I know that profit-making is the ruler of the day and I do NOT want to be a part of that anymore than I absoposolutely have to. I did buy a water distiller.
What’s a water distiller to do with anything?
Nothing except that I’m as guilty as the next guy for participating in buying things, so what can I say about consumerism? It’s just that it seems that consumerism had gone off the charts and everybody is buying things they don’t need and buying into ideas like they are Burkin bags — a status kind of thing.
Status?
Yeah, that fitting in thing.
I do get very frustrated with people jumping on Greta-type bandwagons and for falling for skewed thinking just because the mainstream says to.

Mainstream? You mean news?
Someone I know just stated, like it is a fact, that Venezuela failed because of Socialism. I went right to look around a bit to see where she got that idea. Everything I read said that they are an Authoritarian government and that their failing has to do with mismanagement of oil. So there we are back again at problems being the result of resources and the greed and manipulation over who gets to profit from them — but then I read that potus/pumpkinhead, (I can’t bring myself to call him by a real name), made that very same statement about Socialism and she is one of his adamant supporters, so there you go. I have to wonder if she read anything other than tweets — mainstream. I kept from saying a thing though — so there is progress being made on my not jumping to intervene. She’s entitled to think that way and her whole family does, so what impact would I ever have.

Oh, how nice things could be if we had free energy, but no one makes any money on free things.
You might get them to think? Plant a seed?
What they think is none of my business, but it is hard not to be somewhat judgmental — it seems to be part and parcel with thinking — but I’m working on it. The real truth probably is that I’ve not always been sure of my own thinking and the more confirmed I become, the less I need to talk about it — the less I feel any need to persuade. The judgement-type attitude comes in when people are spewing things at me as if I’m ignorant and when I’m convinced that they’re wrong, it’s mighty hard not to want to defend. What seems better to do is to just say something like, “Oh, mmm hmm. Oh, okay,” and look the other way.
I don’t know what my IQ is either and when I ‘Google’ me all I see are things about sewing and my old, dear-departed doggies or my garden or some things that I’ve spewed about in the world wide universe. I wish I could take it all back now. 
So, you’re sorry that you said those things or showed yourself to the world?
Yep. Pretty much. It’s so much better incognito and all I really need to do is sit and stew about being the happy that I am with so little and so much. No one else need know.
So, why do you write?
Because I have to. It’s a biological thing like wanting children.