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.



To my glee, I devoured a non-fiction

I’ve had a love hate relationship with lists for years. They are a good tool, and like the table saw that kicked a piece of plywood into my gut the other day, are easy to misuse.

Make a list, write make a list at the top, and check it, or cross it off.   Then proceed further, with caution.

It’s easy to overdo by writing out details for days, and the lists on my walls foretell the story of my life’s work. What I will build, where I will go, and how did I go wrong? What could I have done differently? When did the first transgression occur? Was it petty? Why was it serious?

With a well developed list, a decision presents itself to me. I trust that my emotions will play on my choices in irregular and radical ways, so a list helps to ground them in rational logic. It’s easier to be confident when the next step is already decided, and my actions become a hopeful pursuit of change.

Difficulty arises when the groups of lists add up, bringing me an overwhelming sense of ambitious planning. Love for spontaneity, possibility, and variety tends to railroad my best laid plans into regretted things I haven’t done.

The book is titled The Checklist Manifesto by Atul Gawande. Titillating stories mix into a fascinating tale of a surgeon and his worldwide pursuit, to develop a basic life saving checklist. The last few pages are the meat if your a skip to the end for the answers person.  The three stages listed are “Development, Drafting, and Validation.” Asking questions like, “Does it fit on one page?”

A whole new way of relating to my lists has occurred from reading this book. I recognize where I’ve blundered in the past, and now I see a way to change the pattern.  Inevitably I’ll fail tremendously again, and find myself upside down in a bubble surrounded by mirrors, but I can always understand it with a list.

If fiction is your preference, read Cutting for Stone.  It’s a real page turning heart puller and is an inspiration for my pursuit of teaching empathy as an effective medicine.  The concept I use from the book as a category on this blog is “Medicine for the Ears”, so if you want to read more of my thoughts on that click on the category, or the above link to a short article I wrote on my love for this book.

So I’m setting out on a path to rectify the lists in my head, on the walls, in the notebooks, pages in folders, and maybe I’ll just finish the one I’m working on now….and look wildly forward to writing the next one.

Check, Check, % bar mark, Check, Check, black out and never do, Check, Check, % bar mark, sauna, eat, work play harder, Check, Check, Check.

Thank you for reading all the way through.  I appreciate your attention, and will intend to place bright shining examples of free thought where you kept your less desirable TV memories.   Good luck with accomplishing your lists.


Letting go of my best friend

In the moment of realization, sadness unleashed, not by an action of another. Having failed to meet a basic standard again, a plan that bore a fruit of grief, was solidified. A windswept waterway white-capped tear. Something I knew was near.

Anticipated it as a spear, brought to a bear. The others were forced into air by a rescue need met. This one shed light on wild open water, the source of our shared happiness. He and I, are a we no more, and watching him see it, was overwhelming.


This is what I want, with grace, mischief, and fun:

This picture and post are divided in half to keep you from knowing what sucks. If you like that it sucks, please share it on other forms of social media! Thank you for reading my blog!!

The feedback was solid this morning. I am annoyingly divided into fragments of focus and amazingly difficult to understand. Well, that’s not exactly what they said, but it rang true. This is the idea within some of the script on these blogs, as I face the poetry inside the boxy structure of English, and struggle to make solid prose while maintaining a creative edge on grammar. Triple meanings, double entendre, code, abstraction, vague as smoke, synonymous relationship, exotic, mechanical erotica freedom writing.

This is a short story of flow as the post is broken in two. Releasing the before and after together like a well prepared bill for a job well done. Back to back. Shoulder to shoulder. Let the polarization be understandable for the more singular, grounded and emotionally consistent minds. I hope to be one (in moderation) and do that, by doing this: writing here, expressing myself with multimedia networking while honestly pursuing donations, marketing, and promotion of my art…..that I love to give away.

So good morning, or whatever is the appropriate farewell for your time zone, and I hope you enjoyed the mischief. I love to snare attention with play, as it floats my kid joy boat.

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-