A Chardonnay at the end of the day

Every evening around about five o'clock I settle in with my glass of chilled nirvana. A ritual that has served me well for these 30 some odd years now. Whether it is a martini, shaken not stirred, or a glass of wine, it is the stuff that relaxation is made of.

I know that my doctor would disagree with me but then she doesn't understand the process I think. Being of Asian extraction there is obviously a genetic inhibitor there that prevents her from imbibing in the elixir of life.

What is it with medical professions and their disdain for natures own tranquilizer? Well she is gone and another more understanding doc is advising me now.

There is something about a chilled glass of the grape to help one settle in, it puts a finish on the rigors of the day. When all is said and done it is a ritual that most definitely should be made sacred.

So many times I think, we neglect to understand the importance of ritual in general. Whether it is a glass of wine or a well rolled joint, a martini or a mantra, we all need a way to say goodbye to the day and welcome in the nurturing night.

So tonight, as we marvel at the mega full moon, let us all raise our glasses or what ever substance we feel it is that aides us in our quest for contentment, and give a toast to mother moon and all her lunar liaisons. Ommmm ... And Cheers!

Meloncholy Moments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I just recently moved. Changed my address and jump started my life again. The one thing that has complicated my endeavor has been the debris of my past existence. Kind of like clutter from another universe, it swirls and turns, and entices, but leaves without culmination.

As for me, I'm not sure that I believe in saving sentiment. I mean, after all once something has happened, if you cannot remember it, than it is probably not worth remembering. However, tangible items tend to trigger a response. Kind of like a physical reminder of a journey that has become cerebral. And therein lies the answer!

There is nothing like a move to unleash pent up emotions that have been cemented in time and weigh heavy on the soul. Much like bindings they can hold one suspended in time and imprison the soul in a frozen zone where life cannot respond.

It may sound queer but there is a thing that happens in a move, whether physical or mental, and that is the trigger to purge. Raw emotions can, if left to serve, create a kind of reset button.

Much like life itself, shedding the past skin can aid its revitalization and regrowth. So as I move on, as I must, I still remember every instance of past pleasures and pains. But, put in their place, they allow me to enjoy the future ahead and make it more perfect ...

A Clutter of Emotion

I just recently moved. Changed my address and jump started my life again. The one thing that has complicated my endeavor has been the debris of my past existence. Kind of like clutter from another universe, it swirls and turns, it entices but it leaves us without culmination.

As for me, I'm not sure that I believe in saving sentiment. I mean, after all once something has happened, if you cannot remember it, than it is probably not worth remembering. However, tangible items tend to trigger a response. They are a physical reminder of a journey that has become cerebral. Therein lies the answer!

There is nothing like a move to unleash pent up emotions that have been cemented in time and weigh heavy on the soul. Much like bindings they can hold one suspended in time and imprison the soul in a frozen zone where life cannot respond. It may sound queer but there is a thing that happens in a move, whether physical or mental, and that is the trigger to purge. Raw emotions can, if left to serve, create a kind of reset button.

Much like life itself, shedding the past skin can aid its revitalization and regrowth. So as I move on I will still remember every instance of past pleasures and pains. But, put in their place, they allow me to enjoy the future ahead and make it a more perfect place to be ...

A Walk Through the Forest

The forest was dark and misty as I waked silently through it's cathedral like arch of branches. A feeling of loneliness crept over me and took hold of my being. I felt lost, alone and began to despair. When was it that winter had come and how long would it be before new growth would bring color to this desolate place?

Many times I had ran and played below it's lofty canopy and many more times had watched as the dappled sunlight illuminated the fragrant flowers and new born leaves while woodland creatures scampered. But now it was stagnant and somber.

At once I heard the Robin's song. A song of promise and a sight to behold. He sang of times both new and old. He sang of life and love, and hope, of seasons still to unfold. Remember, said he, when the old growth dies and interrupts the flow, the dead wood must be cleared to allow the new to grow.

For if in angst we turn our head and do not see the joy, that lay within the dormant seed it will never be ours to enjoy. So walk with purpose, walk with pride and keep your vision strong, for negatives that can occur will fester if left long.

So listen to the positive and let your spirit flow, the seasons of, and in your mind will make the forest grow.

Lamb or Lion

Looking out my window this morning I was pleasantly surprised to see a dusting of snow on the ground. A little bonus from the winter's retreat before the warm and gentle breezes of spring appear.

I know that most people look forward to the return of warm weather and so do I. But as a long time Midwesterner I have to say that I enjoy the wilds of winter as well. "There is a Time and Season for everything" as the saying goes, and I for one enjoy them all.

When I was a young boy I remember my grandmother telling me things about the nature of Mother Nature.  Things like how to tell when it going to rain, how to listen to the wind when awaiting a storm, and when to plant the seeds of spring. Grandma, being a farmer  early on, had an intimate relationship with nature.

One of her favorite saying was about March - lamb or lion. As the saying goes should March enter as the lamb then beware the lion when it leaves, or if the lions enters first then the lamb will follow with an early spring.

I guess I find comfort most times in the mere fact that nature can be relied on to set our pace for the year to come. This years it seems that, for the moment at least, we are back on course and that this early paschal lamb may in fact bring us an early spring as well.

But whether lion or lamp it is nice to know that I have survived another winter. So I will take comfort in natures gift and use it to help me plant my seeds of spring renewal once again.

The Mountain and Me



Every time I come to this place I am always mesmerized by the many changing faces of my mountain.

Sometimes a brooding giant laid heavy with clouds of snow and rain, sometimes a lofty spectacle of sun and wind again, but always solid in it's stance and ever more a friend.

To be apart of its silent synergy is a lasting love and to breath its lithe air combed clean by the pines is a delight indeed. Of granite made yet gathering within its embrace the many and varied desert flora and fauna it stands ready for the day.

How many times have it felt its strength in the morning hours when, awaking to the desert sun, it's beacon ignites and sets the valley on fire with its reflection.

How many more moments have I looked in aw at it's staggering peaks and rocky valleys punctuated by bristles of cactus and yucca, bringing a prickly softness to its otherwise austere face.

This time I know it intimately, and this time I feel it more profoundly. In a few days I must leave its domain but I will feel it all the same. Whether in the desert or back in the plains, my mountain will be with me all the same.

You see, what I have discovered, and it was a surprise to see - I am the mountain because the mountain is in me.

High Flying Adored

Ah, to be in the air again! Winging my way to the sunshine of the desert and clearing my mind of all the mundane challenges of the past weeks is a wonderful feeling indeed.

This time however is very different. This time I feel as though I am traveling with my entire life in my pocket. I have often talked of change before but this time there is an urgency to it. As if time has whispered in my ear "it is your moment to shine again - cast off your earthly mantle and fly with me"!

Time can be either a formidable predator or a close and loving friend. Over the years I have experienced both. Now, in what I have come to call "my Fifth Act", I feel a certain freedom in the knowledge of just what I have accomplished. After all it is not every one who can say that they have survived over six decades, managed a successful business for over 35 years, survived three long time relationships, and written four books.

Now in my fifth Act, I have actually entered into a new a wonderful relationship and am fully expecting to begin life again, one more time, and with all the gusto I can manage. Armed with a loving partner and overflowing with the promise of tomorrow, I feel as light as the air around me.

So hello desert, here I come. Hello desert my long time mentor, make your magic one more time for me and cast your spell again. I am such a lucky person to have been privy to the best, and wors,t in life. So fortunate to be apart of it all. Pardon me but I really do feel "high flying and adored"!