Today’s words: Time, Grass,Bird,Steel, Break,Highway,Chronaxie– the least amount of time the brain must send a signal to a part of the body for it to actually take action, Romance,Smooth,Spoon,Indigo,Bluster
Running at breakneck speed down the highway of romance bodies spooned together smooth coolness of spring flowers
in less than a chronaxie, hearts falter as emotions bluster against the ravages of time on the indigo sea of tears abandoned and alone
on a bed of steel grass the black bird caws it’s haunting refrain a bawdy counterpoint of pain
Seven Spanish Angels — Ray Charles & Willie Nelson
Til next time ~Stay Safe, Stay Sane, Stay Sanitized ~JPP
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “practice/practise.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
One of the blessings to come out of this “lockdown/quarantine/social distancing” has been the evolution of my spiritual practice. Lacking personal interaction, I seem to be more and more seeking solace in spirit.
My dad once said “there’s no such thing as an atheist during an earthquake.” He said it during a 6.5 quake that shook the Imperial Valley back in the late 60’s. It stuck with me.
My spiritual practice is a hodgepodge which I won’t get into here but it’s taken on new breadth and scope in the past couple of months. I have finally found my meditation mojo and the quieting of the mind is an awesome thing, even when it’s only 10 minutes.
I once attended a Paul McCartney concert. When he played “Let It Be” 100,000 lighters clicked and the utter silence from the crowd was deafening. There was nothing but the stage, the song, and, perhaps, the voice of God.
“I do not fear a man who has practiced 10,000 kicks. I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.”
Let It Be ~The Beatles
Til next time ~Keep your face covered and your heart full ~JPP
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “deep.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep” ~Robert Frost
Deep and dark have always equated to trouble in my lexicon. As a child, caught in an undertow, pulled out into deep water, I watched the shore slip away. I struggled to stay afloat as I fought against panic and waves. Until he was there taking me in strong arms, hooking my little arms around his neck issuing a command to “hold on” as he swam back toward the shore. Then standing in hip deep water, pulling me around to his chest and carrying me back to solid ground. The next day, he taught me to body surf and what the different surf warning flags meant. Just like always, Daddy was there. Until the day he wasn’t.