It Was 1600 Words: You Can Have 300

I value the people who give back.  It’s not as much a tit for tat as a, “Wow, look at that!!”  It’s easier to find the best in me, when I see it in others.

When my friends tell me to take it easy, that anybody can work themselves to death.  The generous few in my life who consistently are willing to put up with my cycles of idealism and dreaming, without stomping me into the dirt with judgements.  Their questions are oblique.  They don’t tear at me like a prideful cleaver.  They sit back and ask me something of honor….and let it steep in their love.

These are the people who act like my dog, or a kid.  When all the hope in my world has gone into the engine of a nasty train of thought, and I look at the memory of them, and see only calm acceptance, or a well-meaning question.  They are the reason suicide is never a viable option for me.  They are the knot at the end of my ropes of disappointment.  They burn the doubts in myself, with faith that what is inside of me, is worth their attention.  These are the people I live to serve.

Maybe I should let go of wishing they were in my age group.  I guess that’s one of the main reasons I love blogging.  I don’t know how old you are, and I don’t really care, but it gives me a chance to cultivate and share the sentiments I value most, from the wisdom of those people. I am thankful for my family, my friends, my honorable customers, and my readers here.  For the several who make the difference by reading and encouraging me consistently, and the many who just stop by to see which way the wind is blowing.


Refreshed Oil Lamp

Thankful for safe harbor.

Packing the bags with hope.

Anchor lines whisper on the gunnels.

Sail hems mended to almost blend in.

Slap of chop echoes in the belly of the keel.

Port masters will only glance as a fresh shave.

Storm clouds on the horizon are beckoning wind.

Coats of paint baked to a cure in the hot sun.

Tying the tiller to sleep on the deck.

Forecasts of bathing in a bucket.

He thought I was land sick.

Eyes wide with knowing it.

As truth in a blue sky.

Letting go in clouds.

A lamp-lit bow.






My Yard Is A Jungle

Lawn mowing is the symbolic practice of an individual, meeting the needs of society to maintain human territory.  I understand that my last job was preserving a home by fire-scaping the surrounding acreage, but I continuously asked myself, “At what cost?”  Every bit of brush and weeds that I cut, was a habitat for other creatures.

What does it mean to be a human?  Some humans get pleasure from causing suffering.  Like a cat toying with a dying mouse.  I’ve always been repulsed by the need to be the instrument of death, but afterwards I feel like it was the right thing to do.  I feel bad for the soul of the guy who drives the exterminator truck.

What is the appropriate response to suffering?  Compassion would say all creatures big and small deserve our sympathy.  As humans we dominate the landscape, and it makes me want to ask, “At what point do we set aside our perspective that humans are the most important life form, and recognize that we are the biggest vector?”

Our population doesn’t need help growing.  The medical field is advanced to the point that we live long lives.  When do we start giving assistance to the true victims of our expansion and dominance of the planet?

What about the animals?  We call them vectors if they impact the environment or our population in degenerative ways.  Like wild pigs, seagulls, rats, mice, or any other human pathogen carrying animal.  Isn’t that us?

In the trades this comes up for me regularly.  I drop a tree to clear a house site, and a squirrel nest is at my feet in the broken trunk.  What am I supposed to do?  Do the little babies with no hair have a chance?  They are rats with pretty tails.

One of my favorite tools to build with is the shovel, and it becomes a spear.  Then I have to dig a grave….

I could get a cat to avoid the use of poison, and then I’d be feeding the number one killer of song birds.  I think I’ll name my cat Tweety Plague.  I’ll keep him lean and he’ll be happy as an inside cat.






The cat I should get to keep the rodent population in check, is the number one killer of the song birds.

Attitudes are Contagious

Yesterday I was reading my feed, and I came upon two bloggers that were struggling with Trolls.  I’d like to contribute to their momentum, by encouraging them to keep on keeping on, regardless of haters.  670I hope this can help WordPress remain a safe place for them to share their thoughts, and I fully encourage anybody who wants to help me do so.

TK & HFCT, only let the people into your garden that won’t step on the flowers.  I see how much effort you share with the world on your blogs, appreciate the courage that it takes for you to write as you do, and it pissed me off that you’re getting negative feedback.

Ouch!  I just got a message from TK, and it was pretty embarrassing.  I had to look up “IRL” to understand why I was anxious…..and now I’m just disgusted!!  Its only happened to me twice that I know of, but the insidiousness of feeling hunted in real life is ugly, and the perpetrator of it deserves a rock upside the head as far as I’m concerned.  Sorry gal.  That’s toxic.








Running Rough

I see it as something that sets us apart from the animals.

The other day a baby bunny sprang from cover, and was mutilated by the momentum of my tool, so I smashed its head into the dirt with my boot.  The poor thing was thrashing around on the ground, and I knew I had it to do.

Why do they ask me to do it?  What is it about me, that makes them think it’s a reasonable request?  What does it mean to project a filthy task onto somebody else?  Why should I be responsible for remedying their observations of suffering?

This will potentially come up in my life again, and will I have the presence of mind, to tell them to grow a spine?

It makes me angry when I see somebody hit an animal with their car, and not go back to finish the job.  Newsflash folks!  If you almost kill something, it’s an opportunity to be a human being.  Don’t leave it up to the next guy coming along.

I’m sorry for this post bloggers.  I’ve had a rough week in my head, and the bunny incident brought up the feelings I get, when it shouldn’t have been my job, but I did it anyways.

Is this the root of my loneliness?  Do I seek to build a crew with people who don’t flinch at meeting the needs of a task?  Is the humble ditch just a symbol of perseverance?  Is this why I want to teach?

I’m exhausted by thoughts that loop.  Thinking for me just leads to justification, and justification leads to dishonesty.

You can justify anything.  But what is justice?  Justice is the preservation of a righteous principle.  The defense of honor, the weak, the less fortunate, and morals.  It is the passionate pursuit of a clean purpose, with an eye for what is best for everyone.  It is not a selfish attitude of “o poor me”, or “maybe he’ll do it for me”.

I’m disturbed by our cultural descent into the anarchy of apathy.  The patterns of judgement that rankle and steep into our very bones.  The way we destroy the world.  Our pattern of progress that progresses us towards our imminent demise.

Without dreams and idealism, I would commit suicide right now.  The thing I can fall back on is hope for a better day.  Something I can make, that will bring wonder into the world, from a skill that I share with a loved one.  I hope the vodka inspired me to properly under-share this for your collective well being, as reading your blog posts gave me serenity earlier.

Peace.  B