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This very night I walked to my darkest place, eyes closed as if blind.

I know this spot , I have been there many times, alone.

This night I walked with two friends, a dog and me.

I was determined to see what I might find when I looked from my blind place, the one in the corner.

I walked slowly but sure-footed, listening for the trees, the rocks, all obstacles.

The other animal was sure of his path and thought none the less of me though he was wrong.

I was soon left alone to find what I came for.

No coyotes or deer rustled, no bird, no breeze disturbed my mind.

I tilted my face to a preconceived heaven then opened my eyes to see what I expected, points of light scattered and a feeling of being alone.

I closed my eyes, erased my mind, then looked again to see the face of God in narrow perspective.

I closed them once more to drain my head of such small thoughts and the vanity that I might know the almighty for I knew if it were the face only a thoughts worth could I really see.

I opened them again and let my soul see it’s destiny.

There are many rocks but old man rock is the wisest of them all.

He watches with a steady gaze through sun and storms.

You may not notice him at first  because he is very stealthy and it might seem he could never know anything .

But he is wise ! Old man rock is son of old man mountain and mother earth so he knows the importance of patience.

While he sits there watching and you think he can only know what his eyes tell him, you are wrong.

The wind brings him smells, he knows of the fire before your news person does and he has survived many of those himself so he knows how hot they can be.

He feels and tastes the rain to see if it is good enough for his brothers and sisters like racoon who he lets live in him and deer, fox and even old trickster coyote.

I myself have seen Coyote go many times and howl in old man rocks ear at night to tell him of a fine meal he has brought to share.

When men lay on him and block the sun his friend Ant chases them off then Mosquito makes sure man remembers his lesson near old man rocks drinking water.

He whistles in the wind and knows the world much deeper than you or I.

He feels the world around him and knows heavy weights on his soul.

He watches.

There was a time, now gone by for most of us, when you shared a bathroom without a fuss … And then one day along the way a landlord became magnanimous…
Now it seems so funny but think of the cost in money …
An outhouse you know is cheap and dug when it’s sunny.
To have the luxury of indoor plumbing at hand, not down the hall but in your room, how grand !
But some day you may come to rest in another land where sanitation is not the best and then you’ll understand !
You’ll forget the tailor and draper when out back you go to find alas there is no paper.
You will feel so sad, have to go in the woods like old Jake the trapper and you’ll  know just what you had.
That wonderful room with a crapper .

I believe that if you trust someone leave your defences down

If they hurt you do not become cynical and blame all someones.

Trust again but remember the past and try to make better decisions.

There is only one time around and only a very lucky few will make all the right moves.

Do not regret what you have learned and try to pass on the best things while letting go of the rest, it will die on it’s own.

When you find the things that are worthy defend them to the death but try to be sure they are the right things in the first place.

Being safe is not possible all the time and you will never learn great things unless you try the limit some times.

This Murphy’s laws …

Dog gone that dog, that dog pond dog. Wondered off again on an adventure to see.

Dog goned dog pond dog , he didn’t take me !

Off he went on an adventure to roam, left me sitting here all alone at home.

I suppose it’s my own darn fault, his tail was wagging, while my lower lip was dragging.

I could have gone, he asked me to.

I fussed about having to put on a shoe.

Dog gone that dog pond dog, out on a run, but if I hurry I might still have some fun!

Phil Anthropuss was a pinstriper, he said, by trade . He could do it all, eyes closed, one hand tied, was the boast that he made. But someone threw him a curve, it was a baseball and he almost died. For long pulls were his specialty, he cried, but before he was done he’d reach the other side !!! The bystanders were loaded but so was his dagger, just the right amount of One Shot and swagger. He took from his kit one more brush and a catcher’s mitt. Then with a swish so cunning and bright he floated the thing with a twist and a flip of delight. A brush in one hand and the other in lip, his swaggered daggers flashed as ball fell from above, landing quit nicely in the palm of his glove. The crowd milled round to see how he did, he moved his tip cup out while the ball he kept coyly hid. As coins fully filled the money flagon he bowed when they moaned to see, then produced the sphere he had so artfully played on, while beaming with glee. But alas it was a mess, all goopy and wet, no line could be deciphered, it was a wreck and yet … He claimed the money put in his vase , stuck it in his pocket and scrammed from that place .

There have been many books, blogs and how toes written on what you need to do to take great photographs. Some on the functions of every camera ever made I suppose as well.

Here is my take on how to take great shots …

1) Only listen the experts if what they are telling and showing you is what you like !

2) Look at everything, every day and not just from afar, get right down , out or over there to investigate it in detail !

3) protect your camera from damage even at your own peril .

4) And this is the most important one of all …  NEVER GROW UP !!!!!!!!!! 

A  J.Crider photo of the author …

He drove through the night so hard it became day.
Flames were as feathers tickling the past never to be felt.
Determined to break free with stubborn chin jutting to cut the passage of time.
On into infinity until the chromium pitted and flaked away.
Never looking backward, only the future to see as far as he could go.
Silent though, while focused.
Try as he might to cut a path of brilliance time dulled him as rocks and weather took their tole.
Yet never was there a change in his gaze nor moment of doubt that he was on the righteous path  to nowhere.

What color is my cat ?

What color is the butterfly ?

What color is the snow ?

Orange, gray, yellow, white ?

I say no, it’s no I say !

They are the color of the universe, strands of thread sewn in a tapestry, woven like a weaver with a masters hands .

The color of their weaving we may never truly understand but in the instant of our leaving.

There was a storm in the sky all gray and blue and it matched your eyes when you said good bye …

Says ole Murph to she ” Good morrow here and after !”

Then sat the two to take some tea and share a little laughter …

Early, early, the dew forming drops to tease a parched earth.

Sleepy stars fading into their day beds to dream grand dreams of Super Novas and coal black skies.

Little critters on the prowl, safe for this moment in this magic hour.

Tattered clouds, dripping red fingers that point to a new dawn.

A lone bird sings only to me.

You’ve heard all the things like a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down, Lovin’ spoon full and a spoon in hand is worth … well maybe that one is a little obscure but the point is a spoon full of sugar can make a diabetic of you if the thought is ingrained on a young brain, trusting all things their parents tell them and glued to that all knowing nanny , the TV, that most parents attach children to “So they can learn” and so the parent doesn’t have to pay attention to them and actually teach them that the sugar is probably worse in the long run than the illness the meds are supposed to cure them of , shame on Disney, and as lovely as the thought of a spoon full of love is it is also probably bad for you if that’s all you get out of a relationship. But the wonderful spoon, invented by no modern person knows who, is still the best utensil on the table. You can spread peanut butter with either end , dig out the last of the jelly in the jar, in a pinch you can even sharpen one edge and cut meat , a good heavy one will crack nuts or noggins to knuckles , no fork can get the soup picked up without the aid of bread but the spoon can get it all. The only thing is spaghetti is tough but then it can play a part when the fork twirls the strings as a backstop or if you are smart you can use your spoon to cut it up into small spoonsized lengths and dig in.

I love my spoon !

You can be someone who goes through life making a jack-knife stick blade first into the dirt only to dull the point …
Or you can be the blade that uses the dirt to create life and makes it’s own sharp point  !

It used to be in days before people and mystic practition what was seen could be believed but as soon as human metaphor was created the real world was under suspicion.

Shaman danced in fantastic costumes trying to scare us into believing their versions of why things are the way they are because they had no other way to grasp the real world that many times made no sense to them so they cast perversions.

This is the instance of the apple of knowledge being eaten, the knowledge that we could make the world the way we want, a way it could be beaten.

It was also the instance that humans began to fight amongst themselves as to the “Real” way things are and who’s truth was the correct truth and way to feel.

And all this time later the rest of the animals are still much closer to the truth and God for not asking why but just living in the atmosphere given them and basking even in the poor one man has left over.

We toil, some much harder than others, to provide ourselves with a future that is fun , comfortable, luxurious, interesting, or many other descriptive words about what it is we are striving for through some sort of “Work”.
We may be trying to make other humans, mostly our own progeny but at times our friends or supporters as well, have a better life but mostly it is about us, ourselves even though it is aimed at others or helps others outside our personal realm if even by accident, the ultimate, no matter the reason or how much it looks like it is for others, is for the self. Even if you are struggling to boost your family, company, country or the world from poverty, fear, want, or any malady that stalks us and even if we never make it out of the predicament the thought that we are helping others helps to ease our minds and thus lends benefit to us. There is never really a selfless reason for a response no matter how it seems to only help others. Even with no personal gain in material wealth there is always the comforting knowledge that our efforts will further our needs.
This is enough to keep the world hopeful and working for the future. It is called SURVIVAL and the seeds of it are always working for the future.

A reason we have one and how to use it …
Though it is a very common misspelling “Sense” of humor has two other variants that will give you a better understanding why it is so important !
The real word is “Scents” of humor and applies to how good you are at sniffing out jerks and nare-do-wells who plague the world of us more likable characters ( you and me of course have no scent, well no bad scent at least , only great armpit odor in my case ) so only those with exceptional Scents of humor are smelled by others and thus carry us through the day with the knowledge that someone will pick up the tab sooner or later if we himm and haw enough as we fumble through our wallets and BINGO a good time is had by all making our friends happy by helping us out and us happy by getting a free lunch.
The other spelling of the word is ” Cents” of humor and this ties in with the aforementioned story as you might expect. To be truly happy you can’t be bothered with carrying around all that heavy paper money or plastic cards for gosh sakes ! So just a few cents will be enough for the judge at your trial to think you are indigent and give you glorious tribulations … err tribute for having such scents of humor.
See ? just a matter of semantics (some times known as significs).

“What’s the point ?” you ask … “it’s been there for many years and no one goes there anyway.” But birds go there and deer, bear, cougars, coyotes, foxes, mice, and a million other of the creatures go there. Some times we loose sight that the world has other living things other than humans who , if we went there, would surely soon be eaten, or beaten into submission and soon would not be anywhere and what a sad day that would be to have all the freeways we wanted, all the coal, all the air but only see concrete and other humans.

There used to be a middle class, strong and upwardly mobile, many house holds only needed one bread winner and divisions between the classes were blurred most times.
This system did many things good for our nation, it gave the poorest of our people a thought that there was a way forward and out of their poverty by degrees. The fact that they may not be instantly rich was tempered by the fact the a comfortable life was attainable and they didn’t have to be a Basketball star or drug dealer ( these days one in the same some times) to get out of the slums and grip of poverty. With no middle class the view from the bottom seems imposable unless you go for the only channels left for you to advance in with no middle resting place. Greed will, it seems , always be with us and lead to gang mentality among the rich as well as the poor if there is no buffer. Them or us leads to gangs on one side and hired mercenaries on the other for protection, neither of which is a healthy way to live, just ask them in Iraq or Afghanistan, Mexico, you name the country.
With no middle class there becomes a giant pool of potential soldiers with no other options and a dangerous environment.
Creating and maintaining a large and stable middle class is the best way to stabilize societies in my view. Giving them enough wealth so that one person in the partnership can physically stay with the children and raise them in communities where all the parents have a say and control of their lives and know that values are taught not from the school where you send them but at home with a parent there to provide support and strength when children go astray. A society where it doesn’t matter if God is taught in school because he is taught at home by parents who have the time to watch their children and instill the values they want their children to have. Schools need more wood shops, home economics classes, metal shops , all the classes that teach ways to work. They need art and athletics as well to keep their students well rounded and give more opportunities for them to find things that they like and do well in that are constructive.
Government needs to stop the well-fair state mentality and start the work ethics again. Stop regulating safety and make it the responsibility of the people as individuals. We may have some stupid mistakes made and innocent people hurt now and then but we will not have to have a camera on every corner or prisons overflowing with poor that had no place to advance. Government will naturally shrink with no need to legislate rules when the people are given adequate room to live lives that have meaning and attainable realistic goals.
Just my thoughts.

Sometimes the best is left unseen while in a dream.
No matter the quest of the dreamer life flows in other forms and different dreams seem to swirl without consequence of the dreamed outcome and the dreamer though satisfied in his thoughts will never know the other nor will the other know the dream.

I can not help looking around the next bend.
Some days it brings sorrow and heart ache,
Some times a great realization of beauty but always,

always I find something new and exciting around that bend.

A delicate balance of dark taken from night to bathe the light of love from it’s blinding self and passion flirts with immortality in an intricate dance of eternity.

Passion

One day once upon a time, much like this very day , there lived in a place that was full of magic a very lucky boy …
His name was Very Lucky Boy and he was very happy. He had Very good friends and they were happy people also…
It so happened that people who didn’t live where the Lucky Boy lived were greedy and tried to take all the happiness away by destroying the economy of the Lucky people and making the things they believed in tarnish in the light of the sun…
It was so bad that one or two of the Lucky Boy’s favorite people started telling little white lies and trying to make up stories…
Lucky Boy saw this and it made him sad but before becoming bitter, Lucky Boy was even luckier and found some old friends he had not seen in many years who were still happy and did not believe in sad, unlucky things…
They came to lucky Boy and said great things that filled him with so much hope and happiness it drove the sad thoughts back to where they started and Lucky Boy was even happier than before…
He was so happy that even on a winter day he saw rainbows and blue skies…

Centuries pass before the oak reaches final mass, decline surely to follow, a hard thing for the giant to swallow.
Gray and great, in summer heavy with green, the kind seen only in my dreams that seed my night and propagate.
With tentacled feet reaching deep, deeper than my soul can fathom, askew and random.
It could be me standing there, the wind rustling my hair, thinking lofty thought, stuck within my only plot.

The Oak-N-Me