“Silence is a true friend who never betrays.” --Confucius

091222 06:09
I am happily removed from the fray. The stressors and frenzy of too many folks in one place. Gladly gone from my daily attention. The hours in automobiles stalled in forty mile long parking lots. People waiting to get home and have a moments reprise the peace they, or was it only me? had with the morning’s first dragon mouth cleanser happily alone in peace and silence.
I think we pay too little attention to the realities of our loneliness and never listen to ourselves.
I have never thought my dreams oddly absent monsters and terrors.
Instead they have always been populated with people whose personalities are relatively benign compared to mine. And in my sleep I came to sense another’s presence--and now I weep for what?
The brother or sister whose life was aborted. Who, had they been allowed birth, would be more-or-less one year or so younger than I.
Odd. Could it be at this nodal point, the end of the longest night, the earth awaits that convulsion of birth the next seasons course returning to this once endless night of terror for me.
Small wonder I so adore she who healed me for this is the date of her birth. And we, though separate by years and miles, hold equivalent proclivities for greeting the dawn’s loom, the slow weaving of the new day’s tapestry.
We individually give a song of greeting for the gift of another day to Mother/Father and then debate over coffee which is what; the Father Earth or Mother Sky? More important is our penchant for mutual reverence our choices to be alone. Our pets become our keepers.
Feeding the doves and my extemporaneous shuffling dance plus ad-lib prayer of gratefulness. No act of charity for the greedy doves but my greed for their beauty seen closely. Of course Annie Fanny, my love, and cat, waits patiently their arrival--the brunch bunch. Of course I only call them the ‘brunch bunch’ since I adore playing with words; and they are late risers compared to me.
Seriously we need to listen to ourselves and measure the treasure of our lives individually. Perhaps then we can be part of the solution instead of the problem; life lived as packed rats gone insane. it could well be that I am actually lunatic since I see at times events that I accept as gifts just for me. . . . And what I write mere doodling while awaiting the next incredible thing; a gift of attention from the Origin of attention. “Silence is a true friend who never betrays.” --Confucius