Meditation - Peace Pod

"There comes a time in the seeker's life when he discovers he is at once the lover and the beloved."
-Sri Chinmoy

I closed my eyes to rest. I began sensing a new surrounding, my bedroom slowly melted away from around me, and from beneath me. I saw my body being set within a pod, like one that might encase giant peas...
There were delicate blossoms on the edges that floated and danced along to a distant rhythm, kept by the spontaneous nature all around me. Vibrant blue and white lights formed within the face of every flower, those that bloomed and flourished, hundreds against the wind.
I was gently pushed out to sea by someone standing on the coast...he watched as the blossoms on the pod began to grow wildly and wrap themselves all around my body, as I lay still, feeling the motion of the gentle water that drew me further into the ocean.
I slowly lost all consciousness, the reality that once claimed my mind. It felt something like the Spirit of Beauty entering through every cell and radiating back outward, shining light onto dark places. I was something new. I received and distributed light from every possible angle. I followed the every movement of the cosmos, and placed intent on everything, anywhere, simultaneously. A harmony revealed from the salty air lifted melodies from the ocean, whisking them into the sky. I orchestrated as I listened.
I folded outward and inward so purely that the rays of the sun melted the pod away, and I was just one single, and giant, waterblossom. I watch from above, as I create from within, a fast growing cluster of magnificent spindly flowers. Petals that reach and caress the water. My center is of a sweet nectar, yet invisible. It is an infinite pool of creation and destruction ... a circle of Oneness and never ending. An unstoppable movement and ultimate stillness.
The air rocks the larger petals of my body, they are speckled with light blue dots that when connected, reveal a map of the window into the cosmos as it is, as it always has been and always will be.
I contemplate text being written in the sky, and listen as someone speaks it forth, across the ocean. "The searchlight has found me and illuminates my world. It births me again and again in endless simple whispers akin to the sisterhood of sea and sun, Love and peace."

PEACE PLACE

It is time to create a place in time
A place of no-time-ness
A place where tomorrow hasn’t come
And it’s not yesterday
Where all ages sing and dance
All happily at play
Where our great-great-grandparents gather
To show they still exist
And our children’s children show with their own
Young ones for a current glimpse

Come now let’s make the choice to meet here
This present dwelling space
Find open-hearted welcome
In this sacred peaceful place
Where visible love and joy manifest
No need of hurry, no need of rest
Where music flows, words glow
As each becomes a friend to know

A place where no one’s ever lost or fallen
And certainly not abandoned
Where hope is nourished
And despair is stranded
Where misunderstandings disappear
When gratitude is near
Where loneliness cannot survive
When bright connections thrive
Where stops the weeping caused by fears
And only laughter causes tears

"What Was I Thinking!"

I’m not at all sure I want to go. In fact, I’m sure I don’t want to go.

For your own soul’s growth, you need to reconsider.

But I'm content here.

It's for the best, as we’ve already discussed.

I’ll miss everyone here, so I’ll just stay.

Some have left already, they're counting on you.

I know, there is one who I miss terribly. But it can be desolate and confusing there.

You have a purpose, and will help others fulfill theirs. You’ll be a catalyst of sorts.

Once I enter that denseness, I might forget my purpose.

There are two who wait for you, the two who are well-versed to serve as your parents.

They sound like poets?

They each own the poetic soul, expressing true love of the word.

A glimmer of hope!

Yes, although the family setting will seem traditional to those outside the home, the arts will flourish within, both secular and sacred.

Will I be male or female this time?

You’ll resemble your father, but have traits of your mother. It’s up to you to choose. Your brother and sisters are waiting.

Looks like I’ll be the baby of the family.

Not necessarily. If we see that you’re having an especially hard time adjusting, there will be another willing to join the family to assume that role.

Oh, will it be the dear one who . . .

Yes! Not only for you might this one come in selflessness, but for the purpose of serving all within the sphere in the same exemplary manner.

A ray of hope!

There is always hope! Although you will face the hardships we’ve talked about. You’ll be headstrong in youth, have trouble listening to those who would give guidance. You’ll have trouble differentiating those who would be false from those who would be steady. Some will look on you as a failure as you make repetitive mistakes in the areas of relationships and finance. There will be countless situations that will have you crying out in pure frustration, “What was I thinking!” and you’ll feel like making deals with God to escape your perceived loneliness.

How will I get through the muddle?

It won’t be easy. But just when you feel like giving up, we’ll send you a dream to give you inspiration or a peek into your future. When images and messages stay with you upon awakening, take notice and take comfort.

Dreams – rely on dreams?

Not only dreams. As life events unfold, you’ll be meeting ones who have the qualities of pure gems. Like brilliant flashes of iridescence, they’ll be there in every setting, if you but recognize them. Before you return here, you’ll see the interconnected light in all.

Will I carry the gift of voice while I’m there?

No, that will be one of your greatest personal disappointments. You who love to sing here and join your voice with others! But you’ll find the word voice has within it the seeds of music. Even the harshest earthly tongue has within it a certain divine tone. You will learn to hear it, if you listen well.

Then I’ll continue the gift of dance?

No, earthbound you’ll be and earthbound you’ll feel. Astrologically, you’re agreeing to a heavy earth-sign influence, but those of your immediate family will be predominantly air, water, and fire. This could result in misunderstandings and you’ll lack a sense of belonging. You’ll be longing to come back here as faint remembrances surface.

No singing, no dancing?

Not until circumstances force you to seek the ancient ways of intonation and movement. When that happens, you will feel no end of gratitude for ones who put you through the paces of emotional pain. Shaking and shattering the molds of empty illusion, you'll set your feet upon the path, beginning the restriction-release process. So, if you’re ready . . .

I'm still not sure. Will I be able to further my studies at Universitie?

No, but there will be a possibility of spending much effort and service in a similar Temple of Learning. We need your decision, it's time.

Time! What is it about that word!

Time? The word time does emit a vibration that closely resembles the current phase of the earth plane. Some minutes there will seem to pass like days or years, but for the most part, you’ll have a sense of ‘time being on your side’. You’ll discover quotes and coin quotes of your own to keep you in the ever-present. So, you’re ready? This window of opportunity may not long remain open.

Wait! What is this loneliness you speak of? Will I have a family of my own?

Arrangements are being made with members of your group. Those who will come to spend their brief period of childhood with you as their parent will bring you great delight in their endeavors. Many a performance hall will be graced by their artistic displays, as you sit in rapt attentive appreciation. But it will be their fun-loving and gracious hearts that will give you the greatest joy, allowing you to rest easy as they enter adulthood. The bickerings of youth dissolve between eldest and youngest as they come to rely each upon the other, while maintaining their independent spirits. Your middle child will be a light to all of a new way of living in the earth-realm and will be inspiration to one who will touch many lives. Are you ready? Final preparations are being made for your arrival even now.

You’ve convinced me. You seem to have everyone's best interest at heart. Now I'm sure it will all be worth it.

So, you are willing to take your place?

I'm willing.

Ready now?

Ready.

"Congratulations! You have a new baby girl!"

peaceful slumber

Startled awake from my peaceful slumber,

I bark at the door to see who is there.

Again, there is no one, much to my wonder.

I walk back in and lay down in my chair.

The day passes by with barely a movement.
Contentedly laying here dreaming sweet dreams.
Would getting up prove any improvement?
It's too comfortable here to try it, it seems.

What's that I smell? Someone fixing a meal?
I slide off the couch and follow my nose.
Alas, it's not for me. So, what's the big deal?
Off to find my blanket this time, that's just how it goes.

Snuggled under the covers as I lay in my bed.
The cat barrels in and disrupts my sleep.
I chase him away nothing needs to be said.
Back into bed to start counting some sheep.

I long to nestle myself in afghans, comforters, and throws.
Disappearing into their warmth and peaceful embrace.
Hiding from the commotion and fuss that continuously goes
All around me as I lay silently covering my face.

Occasionally I'll be spotted and lured from my nest.
I will get up to eat and to play now and then.
But nothing compares to what I like best
Warmly cuddled in my favorite blanket once again.

Hear ye! Hear ye!

The following is a public service announcement from Ditalini Press:

In an effort to avoid any confusion and give everyone a fair opportunity, we would like to devise a new system for who chooses the main monthly topics. In order to give everyone a turn choosing a topic, we are going to create a new gadget for the side of the blog page with a list of who will be choosing a topic for what month.

We also realize that not all of you may want to choose a topic; and that is okay, too. So, those of you who would like to decide the monthly topic, please add a comment to this post stating so. We will then take everyone who said "yes" and randomly assign them a month, and post it on the new gadget on main page.

We would like to have the monthly topics chosen and posted by the fifth of every month to give everyone ample time to create their piece. We also thought the due date for everyone to post his or her monthly assignments will be end of the month.

Also, the mini-topics are great, so anyone should feel free to post a mini-topic as they see fit. It is not our intent to bog everything down with rules, just to create a little order as to who gets to choose the topics. If anyone has anything else to suggest, or if you think this is ridiculous, just let us know.

One more thing, please add your comment as to whether or not you want to be part of the topic rotation by February 1st.
dP

Peaceful Horizons

When I'm stressed and confused, which seems to happen more and more frequently these days, I have a mantra that I chant in my head. It often brings me a sense of peace, but most times it simply refocuses my negative energy in a more productive, orderly, direction. In a word, it stops the insanity!

The mantra comes with a picture of the place where it was born within me. Many years ago I vacationed in the Cayman Islands. The resort where I stayed had a pier which extended far into the ocean. The region was just being developed so the beach was in it's natural state and swimming was prohibited. That meant that except for the occasional docking of a fishing or snorkel tour boat, the beach and the pier were deserted and quiet most of the time.

Every day, just at sunrise, I would take my cup of coffee and pad barefoot to the end of the pier to say good morning to the ocean, the sky and the constant wind. The Caymans remain temperate largely because of a brisk ocean breeze. In the mornings it is so gusty that it dulls ones sense of hearing entirely, making the end of the pier seem even more like a secret hiding place. There I would stand, facing into the wind, gazing across the water to where the ocean met the sky. Some would call it the horizon. I considered it a sacred alter, formed by the two most powerful forces in my universe. For reasons I cannot explain, a prayer formed in my mind. A simple mantra. " Mother ocean give me strength, Father sky give me peace, Brother wind clear my mind, Sister earth keep me grounded. "

If I close my eyes, even at this moment, and chant that mantra, it's as if I am there again. I can smell the salty ocean, feel the wind, and sense the strength and order of these basic elements of life, even amid the daily chaos of my real world.

The Sonic 6 Experience

It was the spring of 1991, and I had just been given a brand new Huffy Sonic 6 bicycle for my birthday. I finally had it, my very own Sonic 6! I stood there for a minute, in awe of the stick shifter, the windshield; it was everything I could have ever wanted. I was so thrilled. Plus, the icing on the cake - my parents had expanded my riding boundaries. The possibilities were endless! I was no longer a boy, I was becoming a man.

I soon took off to seek out my uncharted boundaries; new adventures were out there to be had. I could only imagine what laid in store for me. I suddenly knew what my first destination would be. I started riding northeast to the St. Patrick’s parking lot. The school and church parking lots were connected and there were some uneven spots that would make for a nice thrilling ride. Plus, the parking lot was huge; so I could ride with reckless abandon.

Oh, the fun I had. Riding all over the parking lot, going up and down the little hill connecting the lots, snaking through the church walkways; me and this bike were made for each other. Practicing shifting through all six speeds, finding the one that was just right; I was reborn. I was eleven years old, and I felt like my life had finally started.

After riding a while, I decided to move on. As much fun as I was having in the parking lot, I realized that I had a lot more new territory to explore. I turned onto the 1000 block of north Webster Street and saw a new possibility for adventure staring me right in the face. It was a house with a concrete edging around the yard about three feet high. The edging curved around the house, running parallel to the alley until they eventually were level with one another. What a perfect opportunity to get some air time on by new bike!

I rode up the alley to where I could get on the edging. The concrete was about eight inches across, and about twenty feet long, so it was hard to keep my bike on it for such a long distance. I kept getting so far and then either veering into the person's yard or back down onto the alley. Getting frustrated, I rode further down the alley so I could build up some speed before getting on the edging. Gaining speed, I made it on the edging and was riding straight and true. This was it; I finally was going to make the jump. Yes! My initial excitement instantly turned to fear as I saw the edge ending and the sidewalk below. Oh, No! I didn't realize just how high off the sidewalk I was going to be. What was I thinking? It was too late to turn back, so I held on tight and hoped for the best.

I came crashing down, my face taking the brunt of the force as I landed on the sidewalk below. My lip had been busted open and my nose was bleeding; along with some other cuts and scrapes. Even worse, I scuffed the windshield on my new bike! Defeated, I started the seemingly endless journey back home. It was only about five blocks away, but it felt like forever. The windshield on my new bike was all scratched up, and I was a bloody mess. When I got home, my mom was quick to tend to my wounds and she asked me how it happened. For fear of getting my new privileges revoked, I told her that I was riding around the block, slipped off the edge of the sidewalk and crashed. I'm not sure if she believed me, but she didn't press the issue.

Needless to say, I didn't try that stunt again, but I had many other adventures with that bike. I rode it all the time, until one fateful day, I left it in the front yard while I went inside to eat some lunch. When I came back out, my bike was gone and an old rusty ten-speed laid there in its place. My bike had been stolen, and I was devastated. I don't remember the bike I got to replace it, but I do know that I have not had as much fun with a bike since I had my Sonic 6.

Peace and Place

To start conversation, we decided to go around the table and tell what our dream job would be. We were in a dimly lit restaurant in Italy, sipping on limoncellos. The debonair sportsman started:
"I'd like to write books on the flora and fauna of the Swiss Alps."
"I'd like to be a mime or a puppet-maker," a teenager offered. Her mom turned her face in embarrassment.
"I'd like to do what I do, which is to help people heal themselves with plants and herbs," said the blond.
Then came the thick, middle-aged woman's turn: "I like money. To touch it when I want to. To know its in the bank, multiplying. I want money and I don't care how I get it. Its not about the job for me, its the result. I want to roll around in benjamins."
I smiled in disbelief at her greedy frankness. I'd never heard anyone speak in this way about money before. My stepdad, the greediest man I'd ever known always tried to hide his ambition under a cloak of philanthropy.
My opinion of this woman changed from friendly lady who liked to cook and eat 88% cocoa mass chocolate to pathetic money grubber with no values.

But to my horror, I recently realized that I am becoming just like her. My husband asked me what I sought in a job. I told him, "I don't care! Just something that makes a lot of money! Money and independence are what I want, nothing else! I don't care about helping people, being of service anymore, I want money!"
And how I was disgusted with myself! Why have I ceased to be satisfied? I used to be so optimistic, essentially happy with myself. Why has money become the only thing that really matters?
My dream of being a yoga teacher has fallen by the wayside. Maybe getting certified in Pilates would bring in more money? Then I spend hours looking up average salary statistics and job demand on-line.
I even attended a seminar on pyramid schemes this week. And I started selling antique glassware on e-bay because someone who is building a three million dollar home in our neighborhood did the same. I'm racing away from minimum wage jobs and on the frantic hunt for fortune.
Thanks to this Ditalini Press topic of peace and of place, I see what's going on. An essential part of my attaining peace will come when I can have a place to call my own. And I see that can only manifest itself with money. The lady in Italy was right. I just wasn't old enough to understand.

Buddhist Nun?

There she was again, shaved head, silk pastel purple tunic clothing her bony silence. She was looking at the bulk granola. I was sweeping up some oat bran from off the terra cotta floor next to her. I thought she was looking particularly zen-like that afternoon with a long strand of wooden beads on thick saffron thread around her neck. I was reading books on zen meditation and practicing zazen at the time, trying to apply "detachment" and "loving kindness" to my life. It was my chance to ask her something I had been wanting to ask her for a while.
I moved up next to her as she reached for a transparent bulk scoop.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes, of course," she said.
"Are you a Buddhist Nun?"
"A what...huh?"
"A Buddhist Nun?"
"Oh, no. I have cancer."
No! No! This wasn't what she was supposed to say! She was supposed to be thrilled with my interest, inviting me to open meditation sessions and we were supposed to laugh together and maybe even hug with that tangible calm creeping in when kindred spirits speak of enlightenment and God.....
Instead, she looked down at the floor, blinking back tears. I grabbed the hand that wasn't holding the plastic scoop and told her I was very sorry.

Writer Bites: The screen is always greener

The screen is always greener on the other side! Foreign films contain actual content worth seeing, far more often than American 'movies'. I found a synopsis of a Polish Documentary that I'd like to share. I highly doubt I'll ever be able to see this film. But I wanna!

http://www.polishdocs.pl/en/films/36/the-second-hand-bookstore-

what was I thinking pre=post

What was I thinking when I decided teaching English was a fantastic idea? There is nothing like having 41 (yes that's how many students are in my 9th grade floating block--and that's just one class!) pairs of shoes trampling on you for an entire 98 minutes! My post will come this weekend but I just had to scream...WHAT WAS I THINKING...before I go figure out how to address these multiple issues tomorrow instead of actually teaching what I planned. Instead, I must teach them what they should already know about respect, etc. I can't change the world but I sure can control mine!

Mini-Topic: A Peaceful Place

The mini-topic is: a peaceful place. Write about peace and/or place, choosing past, present or future; choosing fact or fantasy; choosing prose or poetry. My Satsang Circle did this writing exercise for our get-together last August. Have fun with this one! Due January 31!

My Story (fictional)

One Sunday, with nothing else to do, I decided to go shopping. I didn't need anything; I was set for clothes, my cabinets were full of dishware, my pantry was stocked, and my shower had every necessary amenity. I began driving south out of town, and along the way I spotted a new bookstore. I pulled into the lot and read the glowing sign "Word Up!” The building was newly renovated but still held the dingy aura of the old flooring shop that once made its home there. When I turned my car off, I paused for a moment to think about what the place might look like inside. From all outward appearances it was sterile and abrupt to the eye. I preferred cozy dives, places with a rustic energy. Something to motivate my primal nature. I could care less about commercial aesthetics; the most market-friendly ceiling tile could kiss my patchouli scented ass.

When I entered, after pulling open the newly Windexed door that caused an involuntary brain twitch from the revolting ammonia, I was greeted by a chubby and serene gentleman sitting on a stool with a magazine in one hand and a Dixie cup in the other.
"Hey" he directed his pinkie finger toward me. I pointed back with mine and said, "whatcha drinkin?"
"Hahaha" he laughed and set his cup on the top of the cash register.
"Schnapps?" I said.
"Nah. More like my medicine....pretty pitiful."
"What?" I dusted the tops of my boots off with my thick Guatemalan gloves I won in a raffle during the local radio station’s 'EcoWorld-Supportathon'. He grumbled something under his breath about constipation and winter and then spoke.
"I have this medicine I'm supposed to take. It's like a solution...of Chinese herbs...?"
"You don't sound too sure about it." I looked around the store, noticing the industrial feel of the aisles. I wrapped my scarf around my neck once more as a nauseating chill ran up my neck.
"I'm not sure what it is actually, you're right." He let out a sort of tortured chuckle. "It just tastes terrible. Picture this, if you will: a gnarled and rotten ball of sour puss melted down...and mixed with shit from a camel's anus."
"Sounds good to me." I licked my lips. "Is it helping?"
"Sorry?" His red hair, glasses and chubby gut made him look like a nerdy Buddha clown. There were paperclips adorning the neck of his t-shirt.
"I mean, what ails you?"
"Oh, right...yeah. It hasn't really done anything that I can tell. I just get these really messed up cramps in my side. My sister orders stuff all the time from this guy in California. He's like some medical guru, but I don’t know if he's a real doctor. I think to myself sometimes, what was I thinking when I ordered this stuff? But God. She swears by him."
"Nice. Well, if you keel over I'll be sure to drag your body out back for someone to find in the morning." I walked over toward the "Local/Regional Authors" section where a handful of paperbacks sat up in strained bravado.
"That's really nice of you." His sarcasm was as bland as the newly painted walls. "This your first time in here?"
"Yeah. I live just down the road, heard about your opening. Been received well so far?"
"It's been good. Let me know if you need help." He tossed his Dixie cup toward the trashcan and missed. He relaxed back down onto his stool and suddenly a can of Mello Yellow appeared in his hand, like magic.
"Ok thanks." I made my way down the Biographies section and my eyes instantly met with an unsettling photo of Lucille Ball. Strangely introspective, graciously glamorous.
”I didn't know Mellow Yellow existed anymore.” I yelled out.
“It doesn’t. ‘Least not around here. This is from my stash…1999.” He grunted in pleasure.

I clenched my jaw at the lights and how they reflected off each book cover like lasers. My stinging retinas gazed around delicately while my pupils withdrew in agonizing rebellion. I sought relief at a small side table where there were ginger snaps and hot cider. "Mmm....this cider is amazing."
A customer overheard me and came over to try some.
"Is it really hot?" she asked.
"Yeah, careful." I took a cup from the stack and handed it to her.
"Woops!" she laughed as she brought her arm around the table, knocking some cookies out of the bowl.
"Oh my. You're making a mess. This place is new you know."
"Hahhaha, yeah, what’s my problem? I'm so clumsy." She picked the cookies up from the floor and stuck them into the pockets of her cheap looking ski jacket.
"I think the hand-eye coordination section is in the back, next to the carpentry books."
"Ok, right. I'll check that out.” Her smile revealed a youthful spirit trying to tear away from a poor life.
"What’s your name?” I asked.
"Diane. Yours?” She gazed at me with bold searching eyes.
I shook her frail hand and snickered at the fact that my Turkish scarf alone completely trumped her dollar store getup. "Mandy.” I said.
“Nice to meet you. This place is nice, no? I’m glad I found it. I was on my way to see my boyfriend and just decided to stop in. His birthday is soon, so I figured I might find something, but then I thought...he doesn’t even read, so what’s the point. But hey, I can enjoy it while I’m here, you know? "
“Oh definitely. My boyfriend doesn’t really appreciate books either. Loser.”
"Yeah totally, I know. Although, my friend dates this total nerd, and he like, gets so absorbed in reading, that he doesn’t pay attention to her. It’s terrible. I'd be so pissed. I mean, ‘Come on reject, before she dumps your ass for someone who’s too smart for books.’ ”
“Wow. I guess it would depend on what he was reading. I wouldn’t be as upset if it was a book on how to please your woman. ‘Page 17, paragraph 3, stop reading this book and be with your woman!’ ”
“That’s funny. Yeah. I think he reads books about aliens and Chupacabra sightings. I think that’s how you say it, is that how you say it?”
"That’s bizarre. I think it’s real though. People see their cattle all mangled overnight."
"Maybe it’s wolves? Let's ask the master.” Diane started heading toward the front counter, an air of apathy in her walk.
"Who?"
“Mr. Slen ‘Master’ Pages.” She pointed to nerdy clown Buddha.
“Oh man, I didn’t even notice his nametag.” I said.
“Hey Slen.” She rested her arms on the counter and leaned in, “Chupacabra...or no Chupacabra…?”
"Chupacabra baby.” He said without gazing up from his magazine. “My grandfather is from Mexico and he sacrificed my cousin’s baby to Chupacabra one night so it wouldn’t eat his flock of sheep.”
Diane gasped. I grabbed my stomach in disgust until I saw a sly grin creep up on one side of his face.
"Ha ha. Good one. That’s disgusting."
"Well, sheep are more valuable," he smiled and scratched the side of his face with his stubby finger, greasy and inked stained.
“It’s true Diane. They’re valued for their wool especially. You would understand why if you actually had a coat made of real fiber…” I threw her a wink, and looked her up and down in a degrading fashion. She adjusted her torso awkwardly in her blindingly bright blue coat...forcing a laugh.
"So what are you ladies...sisters or something?"
"Oh no. Ha. We just met."
"You look a lot alike actually. How old are you?"
"I’m 18." I said
"I’m 22." Dianne tipped the rest of the cider into her mouth, coughing when it went down the wrong tube. She frantically eyed the counter for a tissue. I grabbed the end of her scarf and placed in into her hand. She laughed while wiping her face, sounding like a psychotic meerkat with a broken larynx.
"And you, Master Pages?” I initiated. We both looked to him, trying to read his denial meter.
"Well after all this camel shit I’ve been drinking I better start feeling younger. I'm 38 going on 200."
"Here's a book on weight loss," I said. Grabbing it off the sale table I turned the cover so Slen could see it.
"Damn…You bitch…" he grabbed his stomach and his face grew long.
"Shit, you did not just say that...hahah." Diane covered her face with her slender hands and waited for a comeback from Slen.
"I didn’t say I felt fat. I was saying I felt old. But alright then...you just added 30 years to my life."
"It’s ok. You're average…and it’s winter, so you’re saved." Diane said trying to keep a straight face.
“There are more obese people now, then overweight people. New study.” I said.
“What’s the difference?” Diane asked in a cracked voice.
"Well...I hope to stay overweight. If I get obese, then I won’t want to be seen in public." Slen repositioned his ass on the stool.
"Don’t worry. You work in a bookstore. Most bookstore employees are homely," I reassured him.
"Thanks, again...thank you for that."
"Yes. My pleasure, Master."

Diane ended up leaving the store only moments later, to meet her boyfriend at his friend’s house. I hung around chatting with Slen ‘Master’ Pages for a little bit, and bought a memoir about a Hindu in the Scotland Highlands who designed beautifully elaborate hook-rug mandalas, went mental, and so spent the rest of his life to photographing leaf veins submerged in iodine.

On the drive home I pondered what type of tea I was going to drink while I sat down with my new book. I looked over at it, it sat there in the passenger seat next to a clean and crisp bookmark exclaiming in bright red font: "Word Up!" I rolled my windows down and breathed in deeply, the taste of cider still on my tongue. My pupils readjusted themselves to the light outside as I made my way into a busy aisle of traffic and headed toward home.

New page element

I added a new gadget to the right side of the page that details the current month's topic. As you can see it states the topic, a brief description, and the due date. I thought this may be helpful if the original topic post gets buried by other posts it won't be missed by some of us. And it can act as a quick reference for those of us who may just want to check back and see what thie topic is. And, other mini-topics can be added as well. I'll make sure to change it every month once the new topic is posted. If this is a bad idea just let me know and we can remove it. Thanks.

Where is Everyone?

Has everyone moved on to something else or just hibernating for the winter? Seems all the “buzz” has fizzled a little? I miss all the chatter there was when I first joined… =(

Hell Has Frozen Over

As I stare at the mounds of snow outside my apartment in Parma, and don my winter parka for my commute to work today, I remind myself that I actually chose to move to Cleveland 20 years ago. What was I thinking?

The Highway

I chose the highway-
when I first started my journey
there was no store to stop
at for directions
no itinerary
no destination
other than leaving for good.
in the beginning
I had to keep up my speed
to keep from veering
off the road
or turning back
out of fear.
the construction delays
slowed me down
but had their purpose.
the highway continues to roll
out in front of me,
sometimes it's uphill-
but most of the time
I roll along
humming along with the music
thinking of MY WAY
occasionally
glad I chose the highway

what was I thinking....?

this is a mini what was I thinking episode, page 52 in my autobiography...when I was in Junior High (yes, it was called that, and not Middle School) in Columbus, Ohio, I fell in love with a new shirt my older sister had purchased. It was a sweater, tan, blue, both light and dark. I begged and pleaded for her to let me wear it, please let me borrow it, I'll do anything! She, being the typical older sister, ignored me, and reveled in her control freakiness.
One day, she left for school early. I snuck into her closet, grabbed the coveted article of clothing, and got ready for school. That afternoon, after school, thinking that I had gotten away with the most delicious crime, I replaced the shirt in her closet, and went on with my life. One month later, when school picture proofs hit the dining room table, I was busted like a three year old balloon. I am still learning to think things through.

Thinking is Overrated

A few months ago, I was putting in a lot of ten hour days at work, including half days on Saturday. At my age, that's a pretty grueling schedule, but the money was too good to pass up, so I persevered. One particular evening, I came home crabby and exhausted, knowing that I still had chores to do at the apartment, and nothing in the fridge to eat.

In spite of my fatigue, I dug into the necessary cleaning of the kitchen and bathroom, threw in a load of laundry, showered, and finally donned my PJS. Feeling good about having completed my list of things to do, I collapsed into the recliner for some mindless TV viewing. After a few minutes, I realized that I hadn't eaten yet. Grudgingly I padded back into the kitchen and boiled up the staple of human kind, Ramon Noodles. Several minutes later I was back in the recliner with the steaming bowl in hand.

While reaching for the remote, I somehow managed to knock the bowl sideways, spilling the entire mess into my lap. At this point, what was I thinking? Well, actually , I was thinking "Shit! If I stand up this stuffs going to go all over the suede recliner and onto the carpeting, and I'm going to have to spend the next hour cleaning it up." I swear, my brain actually suggested that I remain seated, as I began to carefully scoop all the noodles back into the bowl.

Suddenly from within the deep primal recesses of my mind, a ferrell scream erupted. "Get up you idiot! Your legs are on fire.!" And so, at last, I leaped to my feet and let the boiling noodles fly everywhere. In my haste to strip off my scalding PJS, I spread the mess even further. Then, as predicted, I spent the next hour cleaning up the recliner and the carpeting. I was thoroughly discouraged and exhausted. My legs were red and scalded, and to top it all off, it dawned on me that I was going to end up going to bed without any supper. As I slipped beneath the covers, I said to myself, "Sometimes it just doesn't pay to think things through."

Ode to Moriarty

To the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song . . .

Ode to Moriarty

Come ‘n’ listen to a story ‘bout a boy named Dan
An earnest college scholar, a rockin’ music man
Summer 2002 he needed desert energy
So he loaded the band in the van and headed for Moriarty
New Mexico, that is Land of Enchantment Mary Jo

Nellie, haulin’ trailer, had a breakdown near San Jon
Towed her to Terry’s Truckstop, Slen picked up the phone
“Dad, we’re in a spot o’ trouble, couldya wouldya help us please?”
On the road again – mucho gracias to Dad and his credit card company
Performance Visa, that is (3% Rebate on Gas) A Kindly Trucker Wildfires

Settlin’ the Dreggun Ranch, eatin’ some pork ‘n’ beans
Doin’ some heavy labor, makin’ music for some teens
And ten tons of other stuff that Mom will never know
‘Cuz that’s exactly the way it should be when one is on one’s own
In Moriarty, that is Triple Rainbows Vegas Angus

They-of-David-Dreggun-born are sizzlin’ in the West
Churnin’, burnin’ a hot CD, completing their stated quest
Summer’s come to a close, time to say goodbye to Moriarty
And say hello to a heapin’ helpin’ of some Hartville hospitality
Ohio, that is Swimming Pool Gina G. Trixie

Well, the next thing you know, the CD has gone gold, young Dan’s a millionaire
Calls up each and every Dreggun, “Tony says there’s lots to share!!!”
True Brothers they are now and ever more will be – that was the highest priority
When they loaded up the van and moved to Moriarty!

January task

So are we going for the "What Was I Thinking" suggestion or does someone else have another idea? I've made so many miss judgements in my life, it's kind of hard to narrow them down for this one. I might have to go with a fictional episode to protect my innocence. I know the holidays have been busy but I need another challenge. What do ya'll think?

White White Baby

Flashback to 1991. My son and his friend were nine years old when they wrote the beginnings of this parody of Ice Ice Baby . . .

White White Baby

All right stop, evaporate and listen
That’s what Ice does when he builds up so much tension
Something grabs ahold of me tightly
‘Till the cops come searchin’ and find me
Will it ever end? Yo! I don’t care!
Take off the wig, well you don’t have to stare
To the extreme I really sing like a vulture
Get me off the stage and I have no culture

Deadly, when I play my medley
Hold your ears cause you gotta be ready
Love it or leave it, I’d rather you’d leave it cause
I hate that hate mail, don’t wanna receive it
If there was a problem, yo, I’d jive it
Check out the hook while my editors revise it.

White White Baby
Why is he White White Baby

Now that the party is hoppin’
With the bass kicked in and my belly is floppin’
Slow to the point, to the point like a turtle
Yeah, I’m so wimpy I can’t jump a two-inch hurdle
With a top hat and a grubby vest
I’m now embarrassed ‘cause I look like a bird’s nest
Yep, I’m chuggin’ along in my OO
With my ragtop down, but my hair won’t blow
The girlies on standby, waitin’ just to say BYE!
Did it ever stop? No, so I
Kept on pushin’ to the next block
I busted my head so I went on to my main Doc
The Doc was dead

Yo, so I continued to . . . 5364 a no-name alleyway
Ladies lookin’ ugly wearing rags
There drivin’ a primered Pinto was a wrinkled hag . . .

Writer-Bite: Caption Contest

Enter this week's photo caption contest at the Bonnie Hunt Show:

http://www.bonniehunt.com/show/respond/?PlugID=92

My caption entry: Anyone for 5 Card Stud?

Based on the real event of the time when Nonna's 'Life Alert' signal went off accidentally. When everyone showed up at her house all at once, she quipped "Anyone for cards?"

Suggestion for January's Post

Topic: What Was I Thinking?

We’ve all had those moments when we wonder what we were thinking, or if we were even thinking at all. This could be a somewhat truthful narrative or it could be as creative as one wants to make it. For example, we could write about one of our own questioning moments or have a fictional character that depicts the same message. Just a suggestion, and to some a lame one I’m sure but I’m ready to get writing this month so I thought I would throw something out there.

Feel free to clarify in any way.

The Fire

Here is an old song parody that my cousins and I wrote in the summer of 1990. I'm not exactly sure that was the year, but I'm pretty sure since "We Didn't Start the Fire" was released in late 1989. The oldest of us was probably about ten at the time. This parody came about as a result of us discovering that we could set of dried leaves on fire with a magnifying glass. We would take a bunch of leaves, put them in a box and set them on fire; much to the dismay of our grandparents; whose house we would perform this act. We loved doing it so much, we decided to write a song about it. Fun times indeed. Enjoy!

Set to the tune of Billy Joel's number one hit single "We Didn't Start the Fire"

The Fire

We're gonna start a fire
With magnifier we will start the fire
We're gonna start a fire
With a hose beside us so it will not light us

Get a box, put leaves in, here's the sun now let's begin.
Dry leaves, sunny day, what else do we have to say?

We're gonna start a fire
With magnifier we will start the fire
We're gonna start a fire
With a hose beside us so it will not light us

Magnifier meets the sun, now the fun has begun.
Here comes smoke, then a flame, Nonna says it's not a game.

We're gonna start a fire
With magnifier we will start the fire
We're gonna start a fire
With a hose beside us so it will not light us

Get more sticks, get more leaves, from the field of dead soy beans.
Fuel we lay, flames will stay, Nonna says oi vay oi vay.

We're gonna start a fire
With magnifier we will start the fire
We're gonna start a fire
With a hose beside us so it will not light us

Iris ready with the hose, the smoke irritates your nose.
Flames go out, we are sad, Nonna seems very glad.

We're gonna start a fire
With magnifier we will start the fire
We're gonna start a fire
With a hose beside us so it will not light us

by: Eva, Iris, Luke, Katie, & Angela


Here is a scan of the original handwritten lyrics:



By the way, I don't remember why I wrote "We're gonna start a fire with a moon."

Write the Lines

To the tune of Walk the Line . . . because this parody is about us, feel free to add a stanza or two of your own making! This is now the first inter-active post - come on, you know you want to!

Write the Lines

We keep a close watch on these sites of ours that shine
We keep eyes wide open for Fighting the Windmills, Tim’s Blog and Scrabble Wars so fine
K. Grace Bears keeps the threads out for the tales that wind
When we’ve got time, we write the lines

We find it very, very easy to be reading Passion = Truth
When we find ourselves alone, EVA & DANIEL‘s art will get us through
Yes, we’ll admit Latent Chestnut, we’re nuts for you
When we’ve got time, we write the lines

As sure as Team Ditalini sparks a dreamy ray of light
We’ll keep The Ghost of Barney Pressman up and running both day and night
And Unseen Gift-style happiness we’ve known proves like a flutter-by in flight
When we’ve got time, we write the lines

Geir, Lane, Snortface and My "Holey" Uncle have got a way to keep us on their side
‘Cause not for long online will they and The Woman at the Chicago Painting Workshop ably hide
For you, SEK8, we know we’d even try to turn the tide
When we’ve got time, we write the lines

We keep a close watch on this heart of Ditalini Press with love so blind
We keep eyes wide open for greatest challenges, six-words and Home Life
We keep nlitend invitations out for friends and family ties that bind
When we’ve got time, we write the lines

Moldy Turtle

I had occasion, one winter, to share my brothers' company in my country home. I was married, with three young children. Now you must understand, my brother is a bit, well, eccentric, with a brilliant mind. Song parodies are a special talent that he has. Please realize that I mean no disrespect for the original song, He's Got The Whole World In His Hands...
He taught my children his parody, and one day, while visiting a church, I heard the piano start playing. With a sick feeling, I glanced at my children, and gave them the look, which implied, "do not DARE try it"...here's how it goes...

he's got a moldy turtle in his pants
he's got a moldy turtle in his pants
he's got a moldy turtle in his pants
just wait till you see him dance

Cleveland Anthem

I mean no disrespect to the beautiful anthem "America, My Country Tis of Thee"
Having said that, I have lived in Cleveland and become part of the urban flight mania. Thought I might use the beauty of this anthem to contrast the ugliness that has become Cleveland.

Cleveland Community
Sweet land of poverty
Of thee I curse.
Where innocents have died,
And there's no longer pride.
Where we are locked inside
This concrete hearse.

My neighborhood in blight
We bear the renters plight,
Thy name I hate.
Land of the foreclosure
Home to the sick and poor
In which there seems no cure
For our sad fate.

Where no one seems to care
When rap pollutes the air
All through the night.
And we are kept awake
By gunfire and by hate
Until we all partake
Of Urban Flight.