Scrape it. Wash it. Paint it. Stain it.

Preserve the cabin. My mountain refuge.

Be in the moment. No. That’s wrong. Be the moment. I like that better. No, actually, that isn’t quite right either. Just be. Be!

Now that I’ve written “be” a bunch of times, it doesn’t look like a word anymore. What sort of word has a “B” and an “E”. That’s just weird. Be. Be. Be.

Feel the aches in my muscles and be happy that I can move at all. Continue to enjoy the ability to climb scaffolding and contort my body into yoga-like poses (painting as yoga!) to reach that one little spot I missed earlier in the day and although the size of a pea, is now certainly the one place that myself and all visitors will peer and wonder what sort of painter leaves a blemish like that. An incompetent one, that is for sure. “Gosh, it all looks great. Very pretty. Except for that crater sized paint-hole. Did you do that on purpose?” Seriously. It doesn’t really matter.

Recognize my face. My facet in the jewel of this little piece of forest.

Manipulate the energies and materials of my world, using those same energies and materials to fuel the manipulation.

And in this corner…earth, wind and fire. And in this corner…oh…earth, wind and fire too!

Interrupt the physics of a non-living structure.

Energies work to disperse the molecules of this place (dust to dust) that were put here using other energies. Or is it all the same energy, with different faces as it peeks through the veil of my sensory apparatuses?

The sun grew the trees and fueled every other aspect of this place. This is clear if one thinks deeply on the matter.

Paint the wood. Wrap it in plastic. Cover it in hydrophobic compounds. It’ll last longer. Ok. I’m doing it. It’s damn hard work keeping the air and the water and the light out. Creating separation where none exists.

I long for integration of myself with this place yet I spend most of my time segregating. Water over here. Wind over there. Earth over yonder.

With respect to the painting, green light is good (reflect it), red light is not as good (absorb it). I’m affected (feelings, emotion, mood) by the light that is absorbed and reflected by the covering I put on these bones of trees.

The living plants also absorb and reflect the light, but there is no judgement of good and bad, only life and death. Green light is not useful. Blue/violet and orange/red light sustain life. What is seen by me is not used by the plant, but it is exactly the color that I attribute to plants and nature and goodness. But that which remains unseen is of real benefit – of real value to life.

It seems to be my nature. Creating separation. Recognize this, I say to myself. No. It is not my nature. It is an act that has many motivators. There is volition. Be aware of the choices.

I’m a little packet of seemingly self-directed matter/energy, that manipulates other matter/energy based on the what’s floating around in my chemo-electrical cranial-soup. And part of what’s in my soup was put there by other mobile soups-on-sticks

But in this discourse of bullshit, here’s something magic. By choosing the pigments in the paint, I have a choice in how this structure appears in the world and how it affects the light streaming around it and into it from every direction. I’m submerged in a stream of light and I am shaping it. I have just tossed in a large stone and the green light is spilling over the banks of this light-stream.

Immersed in warm, solar light, the cabin plays baseball with red and blue and green light. Red comes hurtling across the plate at 299,792,458 meters per second and wham! Smacked into the sugar pine 30 yards away which keeps a little of the red and throws the rest at the car siting in the drive, which keeps even less, but has plenty to pass along to the neighbor’s cabin.

This has been fun, but it’s time to get back to work.

It’s time to go shape the light-stream.

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Filed under Musings, Nature, Writing

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