Tag Archives: Calaveras County

Fiddling Trees

FiddleTree

The sun is warm and penetrating today – the sort of warmth that sinks-in slowly, like stepping into a warm shower and letting my head hang – relaxed – my tangle of hair creating finely spaced streams of water that flow over my face and down my body – forming a translucent womb that envelops me in the simple happiness of warmth and moving water. Feeling the chill of a small exposed area on my shin, I tilt my head slightly to move the place where the water and I merge, sealing the break in my cocoon. It feels so good. So pure. So complete. No thoughts. Only a saturating connection to formlessness.

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A good day for writing…

No real need to go anywhere. No desire to get out the shovels, or fire up the snow blower.

It’s a good day to write.

First 2013 Snow Storm Pic 1

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Light

2013_Cabin_Painting
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.

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