Everybody Sing: "Oh, What a Night"

"Late September back in ..." That reference is for missymussy. Can you name the group? The song? The year? (Missy is a great one for pop trivia.)

Anyway, it was quite a night of dreaming. First, a big bear had singled me out from a group of friends to eat! We were at a neighbor's home from my childhood and the bear was doing damage in its attempt to grab me as I scrambled through rooms, windows and over cars. I hitched a ride to escape.

Then the landscape changed. I was with Dustin exploring some historical builings on a tiny island of sand. Unfortunately, to return to the boat, I had to swim through the ocean--and the island was encircled with huge sharks! Again, a change of scenery was appreciated.

Now I was visiting Doug here in Albuquerque whose loft apartment is in a converted high school. As we were appreciating the loft, it began to fill with water and the entire building began collapsing like pancakes being folded in half! We escaped out the back door.

The night ended fairly benignly with Wendell from CA showing up to visit just as I finished telling Odette that I would love to form a Cat Club with her, but that I don't own a cat.

Can't wait to see what this day holds!

Man O' Mystery

Never fear, my fellow shoppers!
I, the latest and greatest Mystery Shopper of them all, am looking out for you!

Today, I took time out from another visit to the children's musuem (home to our astute little observer of blood), and from papering the city with my hypnosis brochures and oh-so-attractive promotional flyers, to do a couple of mystery shops.

A mystery shop is where one poses as a legitimate customer while stealthily making mental notes about everything you see in a store. Then you rush back to your car and rat on the employees' attitudes, knowledge and behavior and send a report to the investigating company!

I'd love to tell you all about today's undercover work...
but then I'd have to kill you.

Things Aren't Always As They Appear

After work today--2 clients and time spent on advertising--I stopped at the gas station. There was a man in a sweatsuit pushing a grocery cart outside the station. I was dressed in business pants, wearing a white button-down shirt with tie and had my cell phone clipped to my belt.

"Please don't ask me for money," I thought. I may look wealthy, but that doesn't reveal the truth that I'm scraping together each penny right now.

Then I thought, "Perhaps I'm making the same judgment in reverse. Maybe his appearance doesn't reveal the truth either and he is very wealthy."

He didn't ask for money. I appreciated the reminder not to judge folks by how they look.

She Has a Point

I visited "Explora" yesterday. That's our local children's museum. While there, I watched a presentation about internal organs and body parts. One astute girl offered this observation:

"Without your blood, you don't really function very well."

Brokeback II

When I was in college, we had dormitories named after two famous Christian martyrs: Jim Elliot and Nate Saint. Recently, a Christian-made film, End of the Spear, has been released telling the story of Saint and his tragic death in the Amazon.

Interestingly enough, though, some Christian groups are boycotting the film, much as they did Brokeback Mountain. Why? Isn't it a Christian missionary story about reaching out to others in love? Well, yes. But the lead actor who plays Saint is gay and that's reason enough for some to believe that seeing the film is an evil they can't afford.

I wonder if the same folks will begin to check the sexual orientation of workers at McDonald's, Walmart and their telephone service providers.

(Source: MSNBC.)

You Kill Me, Eddie

I went looking for part-time work last night. It was supposed to be a meeting for persons interested in hosting open houses from 1-4 on Sunday afternoons. "That fits my schedule and would be fun," I thought. However, a quick assessment of the materials they were going to hand out signaled that this was a scheme to recruit "home-business" loan sharks. I left.

Because I've caught a cold, I decided that I had to stop at grocery store on the way home. ('Feed a Cold, Starve a Flu' sort of thing.) I didn't get much in the way of dinner, but I did gain insight as to why so many of America's poor eat so poorly (...as if that statement needed any insight):

My options for dinner at the store were:

• MSG Supreme potpie= .84 cents, or


• Healthy Organic potpie=$6.99.

Yikes! Who can afford health these days?

I'm still housesitting for my landlords, so I got to watch some television while eating the popcorn that I opted to buy. I put in Eddie Izzard's "Dress to Kill" show. That man is hilarious!! You've got to see that DVD. It's like a History 101 lesson only with lipstick and a smile. Mr. Izzard is pictured below, one from the show and a second one of him just goofing around.

Chew Your Food Slowly

When I was a child, my folks frequently reminded me to chew my food thoroughly before swallowing. They were following an adage that one should chew each bite 30 times. "Don't wolf down your food," they'd remind me, "your toys will wait."

This morning I fed the chickens some safflower seeds. I scattered them on the ground and the chickens began a flurry of pecking. I suppose since they don't have teeth, the old adage doesn't apply.

It seemed inappropriate and, at the very least, insensitive to tell them to not "wolf down their food."

I let them peck in peace.

Was It Just Me?

...Or did anyone else notice that our representatives and senators in Washington don't look like the village in which you live? A bunch of aging white guys?!!

That doesn't look like where I live. Where were the African-Americans? The Hispanics? The women? The Native Americans? I did spot one Asian male, but everyone else of any sort of melting-pot diversity seemed to be there as trophy guests.

I love listening to and observing politics. I formed my entire day and evening around this televised address to the nation. I timed my dinner, drink and snack around sitting glued to my good fortune of having my landlords away and access to their television.

In his short one-hour speech, it was notable to me that Mr. Bush took time out to demonize my personal love of another person. He stated that a strong defense of traditional marriage was essential to the fabric of our society. As if whom I choose to love and live with will undermine his control of this world.

Usually I find Mr. Bush's formal speeches somewhat stirring, a change from his bumbling and whining impromptu talk. Tonight, however, I found nothing worth the popcorn that I popped and the anticipation that I looked forward throughout the day. Bland, flat and completely without vision.

From my observance, he said nothing that will outlast tomorrow's news. No real vision or details of anything noteworthy.

Even though I disagree on most issues, as is apparent by my viewpoints expressed in this blog, I was disheartened that he displayed that he is more than a lame duck. He is already fricasseed.

Like his trumpetted accomplishment of reducing the budget--that was created during his administration's oversight--his words rang very hollow.

Jobs created? How many were lost? Why during this supposed heyday of tax credits am I literally having decide between paying for healthcare and actual food on my table?

As for the democratic response by Governor Kane? Yawn. I'm going to bed. I'll be up tomorrow to defeat this dictator of ideals that don't reflect me and my reality of daily living.

But Thanks for Asking

I went to the poker night last evening and had a great time. Despite my curiousity about what it meant to be playing without money, it turned out to only mean that we played with stacks of chips.

However, my previous blog posting caused me to chuckle when I heard one lady exclaim to her boyfriend, "My stacks are just fine!"

Relaxing Saturday

This morning, I spent an hour and a half raking leaves in the yard. It's very pleasant, sunny-and-jacket weather, but a considerable breeze made herding the leaves into one pile a challenge.

I'm listening to R. Crumb and the Cheap Suit Serenaders croon their old timey ballads. I like the style of banjo picking that they do and Crumb has a decent voice, believe it or not. If you are like me and saw the movie "Crumb," then your memory of him, besides his fabulous drawing ability, is mostly of how truly strange his family life has been. I forgot the part about his band. That's his sketch above of them playing; Crumb is on the right.

Later today, I"ll curl up to read some of the books on my reading list. Then I'm off this evening to meet some friends of Odette and play money-less poker. I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm going to wear extra layers of clothing just in case!

Parable

From my current reading list (see sidebar for titles):

A monk was being chased by a tiger. To escape, the monk lowered himself over a cliff on a long vine. Below, however, another tiger appeared. As he dangled between two deaths, several mice began chewing through the vine just above the monk's reach.

Just then, the monk noticed a wild strawberry plant growing on the side of the cliff. He plucked a strawberry and placed in in his mouth. As the vine broke, carrying the monk to his death, he gave 100% of his attention to the taste and texture of the berry in his mouth. By maintaining his focus on the strawberry, he avoided letting his attention wonder onto the sensation of fangs and claws ripping into his body. (p. 12, Extreme Spirituality)

Little More, Little Less

I sold about 45+ CDs today. They are gone from my life, yet not. The music lives on in my soul, and the money makes possible some reheated posole tonight for health.

I'm noticing again the beauty of food. I was in a grocery store today with a friend, Melissa. She offered to buy some food, but I resisted. Whether through deprived ego or through infinite wisdom, with my stomach growling loudly, I noticed again the simple beauty of color and smell. It was easy to be satiated by the simple color and smells, something which a full stasis precludes. Like when the absence of relentless rain dries my soul and intensifies my appreciation, I could more precisely enjoy the presence of the nutrients of health raining down...even without purchasing or physically tasting the surplus of food surrounding me.

Nice. To once again be aware of the truth surrounding me.

P.S. My friend and commenteer, John, has a great posting for viewing Brokeback Mountain. Good stuff.

Rain, Rain

...stay with me just this one night....

Today, before my 4th paid client, it started to snow ever so lightly. The flakes were gentle and soft, bringing much need moisture to the dry southwestern desert. It was beautiful and I took a moment to just watch the wonder of it all through my office window.

Now, at home as I watched a DVD episode of the X-Files, I pause the screen to listen more intently to the even patter of a light rain on the roof. Moisture. Water. Life.

Two days ago, as I sat outside basking in the sun, the chickens joined me at my feet to pick at the dry soil. It was nothing but dirt, sand and a few pebbles to my eyes. But to the chickens and their discerning eyes, it was a veritable feast. They skillfully picked nutrition out of the brown soil. Amazing. When you think about it, the ability to peck out those minute grains of food from among dead soil is really quite something.

In Seattle, it recently rained for 27 days straight, for a total of 13.22 inches of rain. No doubt dulled by the wet into not seeing the miracle of life, folks living there saw nothing more than I saw in the dirt. But to the discerning eye and mind, the rain was full of life-giving potential.

Just now, I stepped outside to hear more fully the grace of water falling from the sky, feeding the earth. And I was thankful. Thankful that after 3 months of no precipitation, that at last Albuquerque was being nourished, that rain was again falling from the sky. I wonder how many other moments in my life are missed by not noticing what is vital, of importance and so joyfully needed in my life.

As the posole cooks on the stove, I am filled with a great sense of thankfulness.

Building Work

This is the reception area for my office. I had 3 paying clients last week and have 3 more scheduled for this week. Hooray!

That covers this month's office rent, health insurance and car payment. Now I only have home rent, car insurance, telephone bill (home & office) and 3 credit card payments to go for this month. Oh, yes, and food. Fortunately, my friend Odette treated me to another dinner yesterday. More importantly, she's getting me out of my little hermit bubble.

Here are two photos of my office. One is, obviously, my desk; the other is where my clients sit during their sessions.

It is slow work to build my own business. I expect to mainly work from referrals and that takes time. Until then, I have long days of getting paperwork in order, figuring out how to do taxes, calculating how to increase business and the general wondering if I'm at all doing this right.

Today, after unsuccessfully scouring Craigslist.com for temp & part-time jobs (i.e. cash), I'm going to head into the office for a self-hypnosis session. This keeps me in practice and the stress level down. I'll work some more on budgeting, sell some used CDs for cash and return home this eveing to continue my pleasure reading (see reading list in column to the right of these postings). I'm also continuing to renew my spiritual disciplines of ritual and meditation, noting the importance and health that mindfullness, self-awareness and my faith hold for me.

After the Dream

Aroused by the dream, I slipped on some clothes and stepped out into the brisk night. It was 4:30 AM and the stars twinkled brightly. A waning moon shone down softly from a sky void of any cover with which to hold in remains of the previous day’s heat. A slight and gentle breeze prickled and awakened my flesh.

I looked to where my tent would have been pitched in the side yard had it been 15 years earlier, where I would be sleeping was I again the stranger encamped in a stranger’s yard. Memories returned of countless such nights, bringing an all-too-familiar longing that has been my daily companion since that journey.

And comfort came with it, too. The comfort of knowing that I was home. The sweet familiarity of this place: its running water—hot and cold, the books and music at my disposal, its protective shelter where, whenever I choose, I can pour a hot cup of tea and settle into a chair to enjoy the passing time.

I shivered. I had to use the bathroom and it felt good to not have to do battle with myself from inside a warm sleeping bag: Do I get up now, dig around for clothes, unzip the tent and go find a private tree where I can squat while freezing in the night? Or can I hold out until the sun is up and the air is slightly warmer?

Instead, I went back inside. I relieved myself, appreciating again the wonder of modern convenience. Then I stripped and slipped under the warm covers of my bed.

My bed.

Near the end of my walking odyssey, I had had a realization that the real and more difficult challenge--certainly harder than walking across the country--was to experience daily life as an adventure. That the ordinary is unknown.

I smiled to myself, not knowing what the next day held.

And I gently and easily drifted back to sleep.