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Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Once upon a time, I was happy.

"hey hey i said near as i can figure You gave me life now show me how to live..." If I were to fall into the average life span category for a male homosapien in this land of blended morality margins and chemically enhanced, overprocessed foods (a.k.a. the artist formerly known as the United States of America) and not fall under the premature category via accidental drowning (God bless you EL), a freak stingray barb to the heart (Crikey!), catching a stray bullet during a liquor store robbery gone awry, or other similarly random tragedy, then I would be right about 50% through my journey here on our good yet abused mother Earth. If that half of the path was descriptively scribbled into a large tomb bound in fine artisan leatherwork with textured vignettes of the many trials and tribulations of Me... and were opened to the first page, you would likely read that introductory sentence. "Once upon a time, I was happy." I see happiness around me. I have faith that I might find it again someday beyond fleeting moments here and there... someday. I had some happy moments this weekend. I had some unhappy ones too, but mostly it was good. Friday afternoon, I drove to my mothers with the pups. Fast forward a few long-weekend days, yummy cookouts, sunsets over the ocean, and time spent with special friends and family and you will find me back at work in my dark, cold office wishing I was somewhere else. Being home was nice. When I sat down last night, Henry immediately curled in my lap and fell asleep as if he found the comfort of his castle and could relax. I could watch his little chest rise and fall while he sleeps for hours. I had a terrible tension in my neck that was causing a lot of discomfort last night. I took some pain killers and tried to relax with some liver candy on the couch. I had a lot of trouble finding sleep despite my comfort at home, but remember only waking once through the night. I don't remember dreaming. A rudderless ship adrift in the sea of life's contemplation is not unlike the broken pieces of me.
Posted by clayton in
(3) Comments | Permalink
Next entry: Interstitial Introspection and the Smarty-pants Previous entry: August bows and gently steps aside...
Michael  on  09/05  at  02:40 PM

"A man is not old until his regrets take the place of his dreams”

Probably be good to carve out some big dreams and then actively pursue them.  Go to Myanmar or Africa, learn to mountain climb.  Attack poverty.  Brush up on your Spanish and walk through the back streets of Mexico and let the culture drift through you.  Go hang gliding in Oregon.  Take your camera.  Get into National Geographic.  Figure out the economics and go live in the bush of Alaska for six months (but don’t toy with the bears - there is this one dude who did that on Discovery channel, and he got ate).

Cultivate your sense of wonder.  I’m still betting that one good way to do that is to go carry that camera bag around till your feet hurt, a bunch.  A lot of national parks around Texas, for starters.

Kristi  on  09/05  at  05:19 PM

Michael makes some good points about your camera and Texas national parks.  Being a native Texan myself, I find it one a virtual gold mine when looking for a place to lose yourself.  I’ve needed to do that a few times, and rural routes to nowhere are the perfect place.  Give the world a view of those places, and maybe Henry would love the weekend getaways with Pop.  You never know if that’s where you’ll find his trailer-park queen!!

zee  on  09/07  at  09:33 AM

I agree with Michael and Kristy.  Let your eyes guide your way around, and find all those little perfect spaces that lend to healing.  Let the land be your solace.  May it take you to places where you’ll be on the mend, where you and your heart are a little less broken.

(((Hugs)))

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