How to use this Page

My dog’s name is Wyatt.

He’s never too loud and mostly quiet.

He romps and plays on sunny days and even stormy weather.

He likes to chase anything that scats, especially if they look like cats or has a pretty feather.

But he does not know birdy fluff from cattail stuff and most times ends up looking pretty funny!

I can’t help but to keep thinking of all the religious strife that covers this planet all in the name of the all mighty.

I wonder how anything in this little place can be of any more significance

to that which is everything.

If one proton of one atom in my body has a billion solar systems in it’s being and one place there less than a speck of sand has beings living on it and they are made up of the same thing as I or I am made up of it because the speck and the me are one thing, inseparable except by my casting it out but I am all things so when I cast it out there is no place but back in to me it must go to be mixed again in an ever-changing, roiling mass of energy as known by me but which is unknowable to the speck. The total is me yet the speck is me.

I do not want to kill myself, I only want to let the speck change to my benefit. My purpose is only to be and the only battle should be against that opposite, not to be.

Perhaps Shakey Spear had it more right than is given credit except to be or not to be is not the question, it is the answer.

Even if you are a speck of dust in the deepest, darkest reaches of space and time …

Even if no light shines form any knowable sun and all the points of light are so far away the universe looks like one dimly lit speck barely noticeable in a vast sea of blackness …

Even if  the distance to anything like you is so far that time itself does not exist and seems void…You are not the forgotten edge of nothing … 

But the leading edge of everything …

! …

I just came inside after being outside looking in as I looked out … The stars were beautiful and I wondered how far my soul will really go when I am done here … I am not planning to leave any time soon but then you just never know … It’s a one way ticket you know … Even if it all comes around again and again it gets tweaked each time with a butterfly sneezing a little differently each time and it’s so vast the odds of it being the same twice are too much to behold except by the totality of itself … but that doesn’t stop me from looking out , not up but out to where my consciousness will expand one bright , sunny, rainy night as a new day dawns somewhere just before midnight and I am amazed I get to behold such wonders and know you in the same breath .

Have a wonderful new day and don’t sweat the small stuff, just enjoy the good now because you can’t keep it where we are going anyway!

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 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 .

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 .

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.

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

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 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.

“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.