Skip to main content

Heck, just breathe

 We live in the blink of an eye for a universe they say is 13 billion years old. It's two in the morning and I could sleep but before I do I'd like to write this. Then I'll do what is next, sleep.

 It was a couple of nights ago, the wind was fierce my side and back were aching and sleep was not an option it, was a prayer. We get these fierce winds in Colorado and I've never been comfortable with them. I'll lay awake as the wind howls waiting for a branch to smash through the window or the roof to fly off like one of those surreal video clips you see on the news. For a person who likes a good apocalypse story you'd think this would be just a sleep through event. Perhaps it bothers me that I might die in such a pedantic way. No vainglorious tragedy of the ages told and retold for generations. Just a branch through the eye from the maple tree falling on the house. The news would barely cover it as more than a lead-in to the weather. "How 'bout that wind last night Lauren".

 The pain in my back and side was both mysterious and not. I had tried everything pills, lotions. I'd even scared the crap out of Deb by allowing that I might go to a doctor. As I laid there I recalled pieces of two books I was reading buddha's office & THE EXTENDED MIND. Both excellent books and worth the read but with no real common theme except that which I chose to conjure in my mind, sleep. The nexus was mindful breathing. Not as some cure for the back but a distraction that would allow sleep to creep in. It's said that the mind can't focus on more than one thing. Sorry, all you multi-taskers you're really just switching back and forth between things and tiring you brain out in the process. Focusing, really focusing on your breathing doesn't leave room for flying roofs, pain or anything else. BUT it's bloody tough to do!

 Monkey mind is a term I've heard from Eastern medative types for years. It simply means if you plan to meditate you will positively think of every other possible thing in the world and thus stop your mind from focusing. World peace & politics, that SOB who lives down the street, everything you need to do tomorrow and on and on. That was me. OK, focus on feeling your breath as you breathe in and feel it in a way that extends all the way to your big toe on the left foot. Now breathe out - OK good good! Now the next toe - why doesn't that toe have a name? Maybe the 'long toe', wait - focus. Breathe in, feel your breath extend down to your 'long toe' - boy that's going to catch on - stop. Think about the breath. OK good good now in, out, focus, good. OK, wait I've finished the left foot's toes should I go up the leg or should I jump over to the right foot. You know I really should write a brief note to City Council about the telephone poles there is a real opportunity there. Wait, stop! Focus breathing, remember. That's how it went fits and starts. But unlike so many attempts at self improvement it's pretty easy to get back to doing 'the right thing' when all that it is, is breathing in and breathing out. Heck you can probably even remember which body part you were on.

 I was somewhere around my back in the process when a hurricane force gust whistled through the maple out front. Nope, no lead-in for the weather girl just a thought. Maybe the earth was doing it's mindful breathing. I know whoo whoo crazy, time to move to an ashram in Boulder, but it gave my peace. When I woke the next morning I was tired and sore but just tired and sore. They say when you get old having something be sore doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong. It's December in the garden not winter yet and so too my body. Heck, if I make it to 125 it's really just June for me.

 Winter does begin in that endless cycle in just a couple of weeks, but it is a cycle. It's easy to forget that spring will come when all the green things are disappearing. The tomatoes are down to a handful on the counter and only winter tomatoes. Red and pretty but no real flavor. The onions and garlic have seasoned meals but they too are diminished. Thankfully, the butternut squash will sweeten and last through till early spring to remind me why I garden. As will all the apples, fruit, and tomatoes Deb has canned, sauced, frozen and dried. It's not time for the hungry season yet and we'll work to shrink our need to rely on Safeway but it's just up the street.

 Today was a beautiful day if short in sunshine to work in. I did hit a lick in the garden and even with a late twinge from the back it felt good to spread some compost, prune and clean. Work in the garden is always for tomorrow, tomorrow but the actual work is in the moment and very medative. The garden is sleeping now and after I step out back to look up at Orion I'm going to go do the same.

 Is this just a cycle for the world economy, politics, heck the universe. Are we just an old hunter walking his dog past a long fenced bull. A blink to be recycled. Sure a hungry season is coming but Safeway's just up the street.  

 The garden catalogs should start arriving soon. Deb calls them garden porn so my dreams will be of sweet melons and figs and maybe a few other things.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A thought in two parts

  BeauSoleil is tapping out a fast paced rhythm. Buckwheat Zydeco and The Cajun Allstars will join in for a day of Cajun music to match the temperature. It's odd on a hot and humid day to hear such lively upbeat music. My only logic I can put to it is you don't pick up the fiddle or go to the Fais do-do till the work is done and the evening cool lets you cut loose.   Along that line of thought goes the 'garden'. An odd moment early in the morning or following an afternoon thunderstorm allows me to keep up with the general maintenance of a suburban yard, lawn and such. To really cut loose and garden will have to wait till the temperatures cools in the fall. I'm simply not acclimated yet. I have however started.   Nothing grand mind you but a start. Couple of days ago I finished mowing the lawn put the mower on the lowest setting and scalped a 35' x 7' section. With the thick black plastic pinned down on it, the hope is to use a bit of judo. The heat of July

Taste like cucumber

I've got to start us off with Waylon Jennings' classic.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kxll2-th4Gc Deb and I went down to our cabin in the mountains for the Memorial weekend.  More exactly we went down to our tiny RV on the property next to the cabin.  The cabin floor is close to finished and thus the bed and all are stuffed in the bathroom awaiting warm weather and the final coat of shellac.  A 20' RV two adults and two dogs makes for close quarters, especially when it starts raining.  That said there is something quite wonderful about playing rummy 500 by lantern light with Deb.  It's way too easy in a marriage to get to plinking along in your little path and forget how nice it is to have a wife you love. I suggested to Deb that although the RV is getting on 40 years old we could probably get a pretty penny for it if we marketed it as a marital therapy tool.  (therapy dogs extra!)   Being a gardener I have sprinkled some seeds as the cabin has started coming toget

The tomatoes are red the gardener is blue

 I'm stuck in a loop. I think that's what software programmers call it. I know the roots of this hopelessness are firmly planted in the utter destruction of our cabin and property in the forest fire that I alluded to in the last blog's prologue. Knowing the source of a polluted stream doesn't really help if your just wallowing in it. It's the wallowing that is the loop. A sporadic series of should haves and could haves that leave you so second guessed out that I've got little mental energy to accomplish all but the littlest things. Musically speaking I got da blues!   The music is Billie Holiday - Lady in Autumn.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Npoe5XeeMYE&list=PLbYb5_Imn1rsDMoIU38jxi_O0aRaYj4CG 'cause given my mood - well, it was the obvious choice.   If you're a libertarian like me it's hard not to on occasion reflect on a woman who's life included heroin abuse, alcohol abuse, abusive relationships and died at 44. The line between libert

Winter

 Just came in from digging the kitchen scraps into the latest raised bed. The soil is essentially non-existent merely a fill of leaves, a tiny amount of grass clippings, and some wonderful chicken coop material Deb's sister had saved aside for me. The chicken poop has already started heating the pile after watering it yesterday. All very hopeful, that it might burn down into something plant-able by spring. Adding to the hope a light drizzle has begun with rain expected through the afternoon and evening. Yeah I know chicken poop and compost are kinda out there on the garden nerd spectrum.   The rain is the perfect accompaniment to the blues on the stereo. The weather outside gray and more invigorating than cold. Inside a mug of tea and a combo of Fats Waller, Howlin' Wolf and best of all the Alligator Records' 20th Anniversary Collection. The enclosed notes in the Alligator two CD edition are the story of legends of the blues. The talent list is a powerhouse going from Pinet

Bleeping grackles

 I've just spent the last 15 minutes searching bird guides on-line and on paper to try to figure out what is nesting in the grape arbor.  It looks like a nuthatch or wren that has dressed to go to work for UPS.  It's incredibly tiny and quite cute but clearly not one to be pushed around.  When I first saw it at the beginning of summer it was trying to take over a bird house I had created out of an old boot.  Some chickadees had moved in and I was thrilled to see the house used.  The chickadees had dutifully carried a boots worth of material from the yard to their nest.  At a moment when both the male and female were out collecting material my little UPS bird 'discovered' the boot.  He sat at the hole pulling material out.  Clearly their tastes in furnishings were different you could almost see him (her?) shaking his head "this straw with those drapes - come on!".  The chickadees returned and a battle royal ensued with it ending with two chickadees (which are b

Enchanted

 I've been trying to force this blog out for awhile, unsuccessfully. Deb's off visiting her sister, my chores are close enough to done, and rain is threatening, giving me pause to start the ones that remain. Thus I was a moment ago sitting enjoying a sweet sun tea, listening to some Bluegrass and finishing an article. I had put the Telluride Bluegrass Cd on the stereo last night while reading. Both the CD and the article on my phone were left over from last night. Inspiration struck, I refilled the tea switched the stereo to Stevie Nicks and pulled out the laptop. Pop, fizzle, nada, just a blank screen and an equally blank brain. We'll blame Stevie!  The Stevie Nicks book (that seems to be what she is calling it?) is a neatly packaged box set of 3 CDs, art and photos called ENCHANTED . It was an impressive buy for a dollar at a library sale some years back. Kind of the equivalent of finding a good Dali print at the thrift store. The memory of the thrill of the 'hunt&#

Peek a boo

  I'm hiding out! Ensconced in my mom's old comfy chair. Bag of pretzels and glass of water on the drum table to my side. Stereo playing a collection of familiar old jazz or at least that was the intention as I've managed to start the group off with THE BEST OF Sessions at west 54th. The 'Sessions' is a compilation from the PBS show of the same name. The artists are all class A the songs and the music as good as you could ask for. Like many compilations it's a bit uneven jumping from Sheryl Crow and Natalie Merchant to the Mavericks and Elvis Costello but that is not the fundamental problem. I want to hide out. Getz, Coltrane, Chet Baker deep jazz to get lost in, comfortable, old, smooth.   Too many good artist on the 'Sessions' to bump the stack to the next CD. I'll fluff the pillow behind my back, add ice to the water, and get rid of the damned pretzels. (Lord I can grind through them mindlessly!) In short I'll adjust and try to find the peac

Hopes on third

   Just back from this year's frosty final farmers market. Johnny Cash and Chris LeDoux, are stacked up on the stereo with Dwight Yoakam twanging as I type. A cool and cloudy day outside. Way too much Halloween candy 'hidden' in the next room. The boys of October will be finishing their seasons with the World Series. The garden will stretch out a bit longer with all thoughts of too hot to work outside banished to the past. Our 1st winter lies ahead.  It's October in Oklahoma.  Our haul from the farmers market was an eclectic mix. Way too large a bag of hot peppers from a fellow selling honey. He clearly wanted to get home and gave us the whole lot for 2 bucks. A pretty little bench of local cedar from Curtis who was staying warm in his truck. Curtis is one of those interesting artisans that you see at farmers markets. Some of his pieces are not quite the thing and some well, catch your eye just right. Cooper was thrilled to see we didn't forget him with a knee bon

Pizza for one :~(

 I've got Lena Horne on the stereo. I always thought, in interviews, her personality was too snooty but I'm following her with Sarah Vaughan. I never saw an interview with Sarah but she was nicknames "sassy" so I guess who cares. Both ladies could sing. Lena's singing Stormy Weather and that's as good a place as any to start. Just finished a cool early morning walk with Cooper around a very quiet Sunday neighborhood. The clouds to the west over Green Mountain look as grey and fat as the weatherman said they would. So I'm expecting today to be a good day of rain, inside music and maybe homemade pizza, later.   The pizza won't be quite the usual thrill as Deb is in Oklahoma for her sister's 70th birthday. I've told Deb and I don't know if she gets it, I enjoy cooking but only when I have her for an 'audience'. Now mind you I'm no chef but even something simple like pizza is fun to make, if you can share the little details like &q

The price of free

I came in when I heard the thunder but was intentionally not going to write.  Couldn't live up to that commitment when Pryor Baird & the Deacons started playing Little Red Wagon. I can't find a YouTube link so I'm substituting with  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEmvBdRLg4k  and I'll leave you to find this driving rhythm.  If you're thinking I've heard Little Red Wagon done by___.  Yeah everybody done it.  Some versions are so slow and deep delta bluesish that you gotta figure heroin was on the menu.  This is I think you'd call it more Chicago blues with a staccato driving beat. No matter what you call it my hands started slapping the desk and that led to slapping this keyboard. For some technical reason beyond my imagination the stereo has flipped past the rest of the CD and gone on to John Mayall Plays John Mayall.  It's John Mayall so I'm not going to argue.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3BK8-Mmn1s&list=PL94gOvpr5yt2BTHyFMsHRkvcce0XI