Deep Thoughts. Or Not

My last few posts have been more think pieces than my usual diary-like posts as I tried to figure out the truth of what is going on, but today, there isn’t a single thought in my head. Not a deep thought. Not a silly thought. Just . . .

It’s been a pleasant day so far, but I’m not sure it has anything to do with thinking, overthinking, or no thinking. It’s more a matter of having accomplished something.

I’d ordered some summer bulbs a few months ago, thinking my garage would be done by now and I could start landscaping, but nope. Not a single wall has gone up. Even worse, the yard is cluttered with building materials, the things that are supposed to stored in the garage, a metal carport that has already been traded but not yet taken away, and leftovers from the fence and other projects.

Still, the bulbs were just sitting in their packing materials, probably crying out for the sun, so I found a place for them in the yard that won’t be in the way of the workers when/if they ever show up.

I even connected a hose to the front yard water faucet, which is not as easy as it might seem. In fact, last fall when I tried to connect a hose, water spewed all over the place. Enough came through the hose that I was able to water the bulbs I’d just planted. (Some of which recently peeked above the ground, saw who was going to take care of them, and committed hari-kari instead of waiting for my ignorance to do the job for them. Others didn’t even bother checking to see what was going on.) Today, I cleaned the rust from the nozzle with Vaseline, and then the nozzle screwed on.

Such excitement, right?

I hope your day is as pleasant as mine is.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Being Where I am Supposed to Be

I was happy today. I didn’t feel giddily gleeful, just a quiet peace that came from knowing I was where I was supposed to be.

I’d been walking in the desert, ruminating over my petty concerns. I have no major problems at the moment — I have a place to stay and food to eat, and I feel no great lingering sorrow over the death of my life mate/soul mate — but there are small matters that niggle at me. I seem to have crossed some invisible line where I no longer attract people through my words, but am actually starting to repel them — people have been blocking me on Facebook, and often it’s because of a simple non-combative comment I made in one of my discussion groups. I also wonder how to entice people to read my books, and I still ponder the whole issue of my writing. Although I am coming to an accommodation with continuing to write despite lackluster sales, I still am not comfortable with the idea of being a writer among millions of other writers — never have liked being a face in the crowd.

So there I was, walking, thinking, talking a bit to my deceased mate, when it suddenly dawned on me that at that very moment, I was not a face in the crowd. There was no crowd — just me. I stopped and looked around. A jackrabbit loped by, but other than that, no creature made itself known. I felt the breeze cooling my sweat, heard the air whistling faintly as it passed my ears. I stilled my thoughts and simply stood there in the middle of the desert, deep blue skies above, sun-warmed soil beneath the soles of my shoes, desert knolls surrounding me and blocking any view of the nearby city.

A friend who has endured far worse grief than I have, told me that she is finding peace by telling herself that she is happy. Alone out there in the desert, I decided I was finally ready to take the next step in going on with my life, so I thought, “I am happy.” And I realized that was the truth of it. Right then, I was happy. I had no sense of longing for something or someone, no sense of waiting. My entire life — all the joys and pains, the learning and creating, the loves and losses — had led to that very moment, and I felt as if I had arrived where I was supposed to be. There was no reason for me to be there, nothing to for me to do, no task to accomplish. All I had to do was simply . . . be.

One cannot stand in the middle of the desert forever, so eventually, I continued my walk, still feeling the effects of that moment. There are few perfect moments in life, but that was one of them. (I’m smiling as I write this. Can you tell?)

Even Comment Spam Can Sometimes be Tasty

Spammers have discovered one of my more obscure blogs, but some of the spammers got wise — instead of the usual gibberish (which I was going to post here to show you how totally giberishy it is, but decided I’d better not attract their attention) these spammers post quotes, and it works! I don’t delete them. Just goes to show that not everything is all bad, not even comment spam. So, here are a few of the quotes left on the blog, author unknown (at least to me):

I’m all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let’s start with typewriters.

The ‘Net is a waste of time, and that’s exactly what’s right about it.

God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.

Memory feeds imagination.

To avoid situations in which you might make mistakes may be the biggest mistake of all.

Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.

Quotation, n: The act of repeating erroneously the words of another.

The whole dream of democracy is to raise the proletarian to the level of stupidity attained by the bourgeois.

Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.

Being in politics is like being a football coach. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it’s important.

Get pleasure out of life…as much as you can. Nobody ever died from pleasure.

In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be.

On the plus side, death is one of the few things that can be done just as easily lying down.

The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.

Temptation rarely comes in working hours. It is in their leisure time that men are made or marred.

I write because I’m afraid to say some things out loud.

As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, keep it.

The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: Decide what you want.

Part of being creative is learning how to protect your freedom. That includes freedom from avarice.