harold_maude's journal

Last night we had a visit from one of our previous roommates.
He has been living for the past year on the west coast on and near the beach.
Him showing up explains why most of last week all I could think of was the ocean.
Preparation for his arrival.

All of what I've gone through in this last week, and realizing that my thoughts of the ocean were mearly letters being sent to me trying to tell me he was comming and that it was one of the things that I've been waiting on, tells me a few things I didn't know even last week.

It occurs to me that we get information all the time. We get gut feelings about things, we have dreams, the hairs on our arms and neck stand up, that kind of thing.
They are posted notes from the universe trying to talk to us.
That's what it me last night as we visited.

Posted notes.
All the time. Most of the time it would seem that we are too immersed in so much daily chaos that we miss what we're being told, and by the time we get it, our viewing space is literally plasted with posted notes.
We remember those notes in hind sight, and can see them for what they are when we think about the different things along the way, but the thing I think is to learn to reconize a posted note when you see one.

I find myself, after this little window popped open and it went see, and I went whoa, that what I went through is loaded with posted notes, now all I have is read them, and wait.

All of this reminds me of doing prep work for making a dish of somekind.
You get this recipie. It's for something you really want to eat.
You get the ingredients, and do the prep work and then you cook it and finally eat it.
A process.

The things of life, the changes, the experiences, the steps we take and the things we do, can be paralled to this process.

The drive of my life for a very long time has been to live out my purpose and be what I was ment to be (the dish I want to eat)

The experiences, learning tools, hard things, good things, loosing and gaining and then loosing things, looking at it, and trying to learn more, so I can keep going forward (the buying and prep and cooking the food)

And finally feeling more in tune having a clearer thought process and understanding and living out the end result (eating the food)

I'm not sure what the storm was really about, but I do know there is some really old painful things that need to be healed.
Things with my father, which I can only do part of because he has been gone for almost 10 years now.
The cleaning out and changing of things...and one thing that keeps happening, the one thing I have come to a brick wall about over and over.

I suspect that over time all the posted notes and what they say will come clear, and it will all make sense, even the feelings and the things I felt and how close I came to going over the edge.
I don't understand alot of it right now...but I'm sure I will, and it will be one big aha moment.

I was reminded of something I practiced for a very long time, and due to the circumstances of life was unable to practice it as easily.
It's this, that when you are given things, and have your hands clenched tight around those things you can't go forward, the way of recieving any more is stopped because your hands are already full.
Clutching tightly to what's in them.

It's only when our hands are open and stretched forward is there any possiblity to recieve more.
The giving away of what we've been given makes room for more.

I used to practice that alot. And then I slowly slowed down.
Last night I was reminded of that practice and the nessity of it.
So I did just that.
And already this morning I noticed the effect.
It's funny that I didn't have very long to wait for the results.

That's where things are this morning...

I just finished reading my previous journal entry, giving it some breathing space to see if I felt the same this morning after the bomb, so to speak, hit.
And yeah, the same view is present.

I thought about why I see things the way I do, and I keep comming to the same conclusion over and over.
My life, such as it is, keeps getting harder, stuffed deeper into a narrowing tunnel.
Things keep happening just in time to keep death at bay.
It's almost like what I get is just enough to keep me struggling harder and harder to the point where it is now.
If things keep going this way, it will be harder to live.
Due simply to the course of jobs dying out before there is even enough to make ends meet for any length of time.

The thoughts and my observing them, are on some other wave length. Nothing constricts them.
And my emotions are removed from those observations, in short they just come in, I see them and write about what I'm seeing.
Even the flow of them, is a process of unfolding.
Like someone is standing there showing me somthing and when I'm finished writing about that then the next thing is there.
I suppose it would be much like a reporter writing about an accident or an event.
The reporter is just there and their only connection to what they are seeing is based on them being there.

That's how my life and the overflow and all the thoughts and observations feel.
I can't find a better explaintion than this.

My life experiences and the things I've gone through that have given me the perspective I have are a different matter altogether.
And when I write about those it generally takes on a tone of what things are possible and what I've seen as the result of events or personal struggle.

I'm not sure there is any other way to look at all of this.
Maybe durring some sleep cycle I went somewhere and something happened that I don't remember, and that's why my head is on overload the way it is.
Maybe God decited that I should spend my life here as somekind of off the wall observer who's only means of communicating what their seeing is what I'm experiencing so that people who come along who need some missing puzzle peice so they can get further down the road would understand things in their life better, and it would take away some of the obsticles that they couldn't other wise get around.

What my experiences in life tell me is that I'm here for the sole purpose to help other people out.
My own desires, wishes, wants mean nothing.
If they did, I'm of a mind that the same things wouldn't keep happening to me the way they end up.
Something clicks into place, but it never lasts.
The only things that seem to last are the kinds of things that most people would look at and walk away from because of how bad or how worthless they ultimately are,
a job where everything you do get undercut because the manager is a control freak, and you don't get fired because you show up and keep trying to do your job.
A job where the insanity of the company is that the people in charge who are taking you and others who you work with have had no sleep for days and so puts you and everybody else in danger of being in some major life threatening accident.
And that job is never stopped or halted except by you.
A job where the hours you work push you beyond what's reasonable for human endurance and effectiveness, and it's never shut down or stopped until you are so exausted from the insanity of it all that you have two choices, either fall asleep at the wheel because you can't sleep anymore, or keep going and hope things get better.

And the stuff that keeps getting taken away are things you really enjoy, and find a nitch for and they don't run you through some over load physically or mentally.

Looking at this from a distance the conclusions I keep comming back to are the ones I've come up with...

I was going to edit my last entry, or delet it altogether, but it's still the same this morning.
And now on top of all of this, I'm fighting depression again.
I had a great and wonderful weekend, and I didn't get to enjoy it for several days because it got smashed to bits right after it happened.
The story of my life. Lost in reruns of the same same.

I really wonder if I'm not ment to be locked into some state of suffering because I'm a worthless human being that did lots of bad things, like being born into a very distructive and violent family, and now I'm having to spend the remainder of my life paying for being a bad human being...
this is hard to see any other way.
I can't find any other answers for why this keeps happening over and over.
I've tried looking at it from other places, but it all just ends up comming out the same.
And I'm to the point where I'm exausted beyond reason, but I see no change in the future, just a continueing routine of the same, only worse.

It's making it really hard to want to hang on to life, and not just check out.
Really hard.

I just finished reading a letter from my daughter. It was full of wonderful things.
I was happy for her, and her brother. And for their father.
He has this wonderful life.
I realize that none of this wonderful would have occured had I stayed.

When I left I never asked for anything. People told me I was crazy. But my thinking and belief on the subject was why should I?
I relinquished all rights to any property, and everything else for that matter. I felt like those things were never mine in anyway shape or form.
In fact, my view at the time was this: I felt like I should be paying him to live in his house.

So I left with my clothes, 3 blankets and a couple of pans some food that would help and about 600 dollars in my pocket that I had saved.

My life now, as it is, has been a lesson in learning that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do to make a difference it's a moot point.
Anything good that I've said or thought, I believe has come from somewhere other than me.
I can't take credit for anything other than my screw ups.
And the decision I make on several occasions not to become a raging drunk.

The things of wisdom that I have written down have been like birds that have flown in some window in my head and I thought they were pretty cool so I just reported what I was seeing, I think that's why my head is on overload. The window is open 24/7 like a convinence store that stays open all year.

They come from somewhere else, and for what ever reason, I'm just bright enough to write about them.

If they did belong to me, generated from some brilliant hole in my head I think I would know it.
It would feel different when I would see them in my head.

So I've come to this conclusion, I'm dust in waiting.
That's all. That's it.
Bottom line.
I'm very sure there will be arguments to the contrary. But please if there are, kindly say nothing.
There is no point in trying to see what I can see from any other perspective.
The good things that do come arn't for me. I don't get to enjoy them, they are for other people.
I'm just a box, with a lid that someone comes and fills with stuff till it overflows.

I do know this, that who ever is filling the box with the good stuff is very very wise and very smart.
And if your amazed by anything, be amazed by this, that there is someone who would consider putting those things in this box so that they could be said.

I am convinced, by the course of my life, that this is right.
I'm only dust in waiting...that's all.

Today has been brillant. Not so much in the weather, although the sun is blazing away in a sea of saphire, but the little things, one by one, and the sheer enjoyment that each thing brought with it.
Maybe I just got to see the world for a little while from a clear place.

It started last night. We had our first social gathering, ie. a fire in over a year.
People actually showed up.
The fire itself was this mountian of brush, branches and peices of furniture that needed to be put out of their misery.
Inspite of being sprayed with water, it took off and made this amazing roar of yellow white light.
Every thing around it was soaked with water as well because with the wind that was blowing it could have ignited a couple of buildings and set a good portion of the farm on fire.
It was magnificant.

As it got later into the evening, and no one had come yet, I began to think, here we go again.
No one is going to come. There will be the same round of reasons as to why they couldn't come, and even though those of us who live here will have a great time, it will be missing the company of people who would add to how good it can be.

Then about 11:30 they started rolling in.
I'm glad I was wrong about people not showing up. The people who did come were the perfect blend of individuals.
It reminded me of sitting down to a really awesome dinner.
:)

Since some of the people who came are familiar with my art, the question of new work came up.
I brought some peices I've been working on, transitional mostly, going from watercolor alone to watercolor bases with pen and ink over it.
One of the guys found a peice that he fell in love with, which always makes me happy.
And he asked how much I wanted for it, I hate that part.
I find the idea of someone asking me for a price on something I got to participate in because I generally have no idea.
Art is like breathing for me.
How can you put a price tag on breathing?

I asked him to make me an offer I can't refuse. I love approaching things that way because it gives a person a chance to tell me by what they offer me it's value to them.
But I find that most people have trouble dealing with buying things that way, due to they normally don't have to think about the value of something they want.

But me being me and the idea of throwing out the box going 70 miles down the freeway, which from my perspective is what is really going on when you ask someone to make you an offer you can't refuse, is delicious.

So we talk abit about it, and I decide on 40 dollars.
Then he hands me a 50, and tells me it's worth alot more, but that's all he had with him.
That was extrodinary. The idea that someone would feel that way and be willing with out fussing and complaining about the price of something, is what made it extrodinary for me.

Earlier in the day I had just finished spending almost all the change I had left to buy gas with and was wondering if my final check had come in early because of the holiday on monday, and knowing I would be driving on monday, wondering if the amount of gas I bought would be enough til tuesday when the banks would be open and then there would be enough to fill the gas tank.

Now to understand the whole picture fully, what I consider of great value in terms of material things no one else seems to share my view.
I have nothing that I can pawn off if the need arises.
And it was at that point yesterday that it would have been great to be able to go to the pawn shop and get enough money to at least put the tank at half full.
But there was nothing.
Then the painting sold. 50 bucks. I filled the gas tank and even got to buy toilet paper which we were completely out of and food too!
Everything I put into my cart at the grocery store was wonderful.
To not have to count change and know that there was enough.
What a gift.

What makes it even better is this, the check did come, but almost all of the money is earmarked for something.
There is just enough in the check for some very basic things.
And since I'm jobless again, the food money is a very small part of that check.

Needless to say, tonight I'm making burgers with cheese, and we're having grapes for desert.
They are going to taste beyond amazing.
And when dinner is done, we'll just hang out until the stars come out and then we'll go outside and enjoy the night sky, and ponder deep things and ask questions and dream.

It's been a perfect day. Actually a perfect weekend. A long time comming. But well worth waiting for. :)

This morning I noticed that some of the trees here are starting to show signs that summer is about to vacate the premises and the brief days of fall will be here.

I love fall. The color that drenches trees and dots the landscape with more yellows and browns as the crops get ready for harvest.
It's never long enough for me.
The birds who spend their summer here will be off to somewhere else, and I will miss them too.
Soon the berries and apples will ripen and that tangy delicious smell of woodsmoke drifting in from somewhere will fill the air.

Besides the color that explodes in Autumn, the season brings with it other wonderful stuff, warm sweaters and it's cool enough to start baking and making cider and other mulled drinks, and besides it makes a great excuse to curl up under warm blankets.
The star gazing should be awesome too.
And it seems that when you have fires in the fall their more cozy as well.
The bugs will die down, so less fighting with mesquetos.
Long walks through the woods, and the deer will be wandering through the feilds too.

We'll have more rain as well, and I'll pull out my oversized slippers that resemble Ernies' shoes (Ernie from Sesame street) and I'll put them on, and my feet will be comfy.

Before I can think about it and enjoy it to my hearts content, it will be gone.
That's the only thing I don't like about it.
Sometimes it reminds me of a really great kiss that happens and I wish it would go on for a long time, but it dosen't and all I can do is wait for another one to happen.

I'd love to find one of thoes waterballs that used to be very common, but now they are more expensive and harder to find, one that has little leaves and a forest that one could get lost in but never feel lost while they are there.
On top of all of this, when fall comes and passes into winter another year of my life will have ended.

It used to be that when September came I was over joyed and excited all the time.
It repersented the door opening to the best time of the year for me.
The season of leaves changing color, wood smoke, halloween and my birthday.
All in just a few months.

Things change as life happens. Somewhere along the line I grew to hate my birthday, and it had nothing to do with the changing numbers, but more to do with how alone I felt when it came.
It didn't really seem to matter to alot of people when it came.
It finally got to the point where I dreaded it's arrival.
I'd get out of the house and stay out as long as I could just to avoid any phone calls that might come along.
Now I just don't tell people what day my birthday is.
I just let it pass in peace, and try not to think about what it could be.
I still get the phone call from one of my sisters, and a card from my mother.
The other half of me doesn't really take notice of it, and I don't remind him.

It will come with Autumn, and it will fade into the shadows and still of winter. And I'll try not to think about it.
I'll just love the color that comes for the time it's here and when it turns to brown and then the shades of cold, I will wish it had stayed longer.
I would glady trade most of summer for a long slow Autumn.
Oh say about 6 or 8 months worth would be just fine.

But that place doesn't exist except maybe in one of those waterglobes....

There are three baby kitties asleep on the bed right now.
There is Little Annie, the runt who has the guts and courage of a lion. She is so named for Annie Okaklee, a gustys young woman who was with Wild Bill Hicocks wild west show.

There is The Letter M, that's her name, a very fluffy grey little girl who is content to be as close as she can to the person holding her while she purrs with all her heart.

And then there is the other little girl, we haven't found her name yet. She is black with silver on her feet, and seems happy just to be in a safe place.

They are all so quiet. Except when the meow now and then. When they see us they meow very excitedly and wobble and occasionally tumble over their own feet as they make their way to say hello.

Now and again they squeek too. I wish we had baby ducks here too.
It would be soo cool to get some duck eggs and hatch them.
They would imprint and then for the rest of their lives we would get to enjoy the company of ducks.
From the fuzzy little footed wandering quackers to old friends who you can share a tuna fish sandwhich with now and again.
What a thought.
I can hear it now...a conversation that would go something like this:
"so what did you have for dinner?"
"we had hotdogs"
"we had ducks for dinner and we all ate tuna fish sandwhiches"
"you ate the ducks? And then the tuna?"
"no, the ducks ate with us, and we all had tuna"
"you eat with ducks?"
"yep. Great company and they are really good at keeping the flies down here."