Within the hour I will become a camper, something I haven’t done since I was 23. Um, that was 43 years ago—not counting my stays at Motel 6 here and there along Interstate 40.
Besides a campout with my camp-virgin spouse, the diabetic cat, Mouser, comes with too.
I tossed and turned so much last night, that the cat grumbled a harumph and hopped off the bed. I joined him […]
Like pathways, roads fascinate me. It might be the natural metaphor that roads imbue. Or it’s a simple how we leave and […]
This story can also be read in The Cambrian Embedded just over my right eye is a one-inch scar. I was a tad […]
“I promise to forego lust, gluttony, greed and sloth this year…”
That quote is definitely not mine. But they are the final four of the seven deadly sins that build annual New Year’s resolutions lists. They are the corporal sins, or sins of the body.
The seven deadly sins? Well, yes. Are we not trying to improve the basics in our life and cease and desist with at least one of the deadly seven: pride, envy, anger, sloth, greed, gluttony and lust?
When I thought about this annual listing of how I can become better person in 2015, every improvement linked to one of the seven.
All this magnificence everywhere, yet we find ways to desecrate the poor, the under privileged and less fortunate. Is this how human projectile shards shatter the inner sanctum of their circumferential beginning and seek to destroy as they develop?
See this map? See the blood-red area of California along the coast? That’s where I live. It’s Exceptional-droughtland. And less than a year ago, our local community water providers left Pollyanna-land, and informed us citizens that there was a huge likelihood of our wells going dry by late 2014.
For the short time I spent with Watson on Saturday, I’d call him a good person who draws crowds like a magnet—and that’s before they hear his incredible story of his willful determination as an 18-year-old on June 6, 1944.
The woodsy air born from the thousands of years old coast redwoods filled my lungs on a Sunday morning 45 years ago. My California girl’s spirit awakened. I took the first steps along a new path as nature whispered her song into my ears. Harmonic resonance beneath the aged ones, those sentries of the primeval forest, comforted and healed my wounds of the day. Though a pup in my personal timeline, I did “Seek ye counsel of the aged, for their eyes […]
The Muse Pallet 