Looking Forward to Yellowstone Erupting: 10 Reasons

1. The plane that fell into the Indian Ocean can take a news nap, so we can hear about something enthralling.

2. I’ve never had the chance to see the park, and people always brag about how beautiful it is, so now they can shut up.

3. I’ll get the chance to need my new flashlight, and it will be a great reminder to replace the batteries.

4. If I’m lucky enough to have it coincide with massive earthquake activity, the neighbor who is bringing down my property value with their hovel, won’t be a problem anymore, because their horribly built shit shack, will cave in.

5. Natural disaster brings out people’s self-preservation instinct, so I’ll get more insight into who is spiritually awesome enough to preserve communities, and who just wants to be alive.

6. Wyoming is a boring sparsely populated state full of grass, so watching nature throw a party there would be pretty excellent.

7. So what if only the stupid one’s are left, lava cooked Bison meat sounds tasty.

8. When the dust is done forming clouds of sheet lightning shows, it’ll get wet from rain and take out our electric systems, which would mean that the local utility guys could be bribed, to extend our bicycle tours and sail boat adventures.

9. Father time has been tickling Mother Earth’s fancy under the covers for too long, so wouldn’t it be great if her satisfaction spilled onto the international stage?

10. All of the hoarders from the Great Depression, Y2K, The World Banks, Zombie Apocalypse Fanatics, and WalMart would have a chance to share the stock pile of goods they’ve set aside for us.


Sweet Talk vs Dirty Talk

To lighten the mood of a frustrating task, I start talking to inanimate objects. As it isn’t socially acceptable to talk with tools and materials, I begin to feel naughty and can focus on that feeling, instead of the challenge at hand.

For instance, when I’m working on removing trim for re-use, I’ve found that what I say to the pieces has an impact on how well I preserve them. Trim is synonymous with lingerie for many reasons, and it’s not difficult to connect them in my mind at the moment of removal, so I have to be wary of screwing it up. As I coax a quality piece of adornment off a structure, I use firm gentle strokes and whisper sexy words to it, to “un-guild the lily”.

Sometimes trim is made like ancient cotton briefs stained by use, so I can talk nasty to it while tearing it from the wall with my bare hands. Studs are even more fun to reclaim because they’ve been nailed so thoroughly to the wall, that they need a hard pounding with a heavy hammer and filthy language, to properly undo.

Deciding between sweet talk and dirty talk, is a matter of balancing quality in the materials, with the hope of doing something with them again. Asking myself how long it will take to satisfy the preservation of the material vs how much energy it would take to re-create them, is rewarding and necessary to the trade.

The process is further complicated by how slutty the wood has been. Has it been nailed in the face repeatedly? Was it stacked wet against other pieces for long periods of time, showing it’s dissatisfied need for sunlight and air as a rotten weak spot? What does the grain look like, and is the board straight? How many knots would need to be addressed when planing it, and does it have hidden scraps of previous nail mistakes buried inside?

Sometimes I’m surprised by an ancient beauty, and fall in love with a beam that could be a thousand years old. The strength in the piece of old growth beckons me to care for it, and the wisest choice is to do whatever I need to in order to reclaim it. I’ll strip away a dozen ugly boards with commentary reflecting their fake veneers and plastic faces, then BAM!!! There is a gem!! All work stops as I run my hands over her golden surface, and my words are lost in a dream come true.

Focus Stall Ranting

I enjoyed your article, as I also find myself in the unenviable position, of freezing my life due to heart breaks, to reflect on the patterns in the pain of the past. As you said, my symptoms are flight, fight, and freeze.

On my blogging adventure, I’m fighting by writing for the growth of my well-being, and yesterday I watched an interesting video on the study of perspective in time, that helps build my serenity for that purpose.

In the flight from emotional pain over the last year, I’ve become fascinated by how time relates to my spirituality and identity. It has a harsh impact on the judgements of others for who I am(an emotional trigger you shared too),so you I hope this video helps you too. Food for thought in The Secret Powers of Time.  The only criticism I would give, is that I wouldn’t choose to represent the present tense derogatorily as “Present Hedonist”, as I find the spiritual practice of “Mindfullness”, and living in the moment, bring me contentment.

I used my desire to comment on your article, as a motivator to edit my long list of backlogged drafts, so thanks for sharing your struggle, it inspired me to improve this article from 2012:

Why am I doubting the darkness, and interrogating the sun? Why does the cold make me angry, and the heat make me sad? What is this thing that makes me look up, expecting to see the ceiling, and finding the closet floor? What is the combination of the lock to the cellar door?

Why am I so tired, with rest evading me like a bouncing deer? Staring at one of my biggest fears, shaking my head and grinning, a mantra uttered to survive. Turning on the music, taking a shower, shaving, turning up the music, dancing, singing, drinking water….

Taking on something simple while physically demanding, as a challenge that will exhaust me to complete. A work that takes all of it away, and leaves me trembling for a different reason, than the one that motivated me to write this.

It’s a precipice, a focus stall, a pit. The scattering fragmentation and suffering of doubts, popping up like bubbles in a boil.

Putting my ear muffs on to cancel out the noise of the chain saws hitting rock, in my head, and again, turning up the music. Dancing to feeling it, loving it as a moment in time. Always as my salvation, the double safeties with end knots, rescuing my lost soul.

A place of absorption with mind whipping like a snake rattle…I’m barely alive. Outside the door lying under the floor, lurks my passions, perseverance, drive, resilience, sanctuary, art, and focus. Play that makes me tall, a work that fixes all.

It’s the decision that’s already been made, and a willingness to pursue it with dogged focus. Getting it done for me, means learning to transcend the focus stalls with grace.

So if you see me with bloodshot eyes and grinning, sweating while lifting, moving at high-speed, know that what you see is glee, buried in an uncontrollable passion to finish.

I have no choice to make at this point. My life has become make or die, and I love being an Artist Builder. Thanks again for inspiring me to lift this back up, by writing about the dynamics of your mental health, and the scientific study of it. Be well.

This is little blue man.  He glows in the dark.  My third puppet.  Made from reclaimed Douglas Fir, Yew wood, and an assortment of semi precious stone beads.

This is little blue man. He glows in the dark, and is my third puppet. Made from reclaimed Douglas Fir, Yew wood, and an assortment of semiprecious stone beads.  His strings are cut, because making him was my passion, and controlling him didn’t bring me happiness.


Right now!?!!!!!

Underrated in education and the workplace is the value of the pupil to discover new ideas and ways to accomplish tasks. If the pupil is engaged and focused in the moment, not worrying about the test next Tuesday, or the kid that told them they were stupid yesterday….they may be able to give the teacher a new idea….This article is coming from a study I did on the five stages of a non-profit, and a fantastic book on creative ideating/critical thinking/problem solving.

When the teacher or mentor who is stuck on a practice of the past, fails to adapt to the changing needs in an environment (it’s also known as Founder’s Syndrome), the solution or opportunity are missed, and the problem prevails.

It happens when your biggest dreams come true….unless you let go of the attachment to the original vision, interpretation and design enough, to evolve your thinking.

Otherwise you become the student of your own failure as your learning and ability to teach, are unified in purpose, intention, action, and result, when you think free….or not.

If you break the rules of thought look forward to a title of honor, or the categorization that is used to defame, destroy, or otherwise devalue a person and idea. Without breaking the rules of thought though, your oatmeal is going to taste the same every morning, while the neighbor is cooking it in a hand-made pine needle basket, with fire heated rocks.

I will give myself an honorary title if I do my best. I will search for the kid inside of myself, and name that person Spear Tip, Custodian, or Recreational Assistant if my actions reflect the titles.

I hate to repeat myself if people didn’t listen and I love to teach, if it works. I hate the idea of advertising, but I love advertisements and promotion. I did all of that here I can hope to believe, by promoting an ad and learning a lesson, by editing it…….(this is the eighth rendition)……again. 🙂

in a good way solid unlocked 1

Prosperity in a cave.

I will have prosperity rain down from the sky, winking in the moonlight, silver droplets, molten forming art, a wallet of metal, a glisten of sparkle, wrapped around me, in a jacket of wealth. Let my hems be sewn with rubies, my belts be laced with emeralds. I see a mountain of wealth in the lair that is my mind. By this time tomorrow, the mountain will go again, trembling shakes beneath my feet, rattling cutlery and china on the tabletops of the heartland, spewing large chunks of melting gold across the garden. I will be as the sleeping dragon, smoke billowing from my ears, atop the pile of filigreed books, when the slightest disturbance is heard, I will be anticipating, another nap, and another meal.
-the dragons lair-