Blowing Off The Dust

It's been so long since I've posted anything in this blog, I have to dust off my old journal to figure out what to write.
Almost the entire year has passed since I posted here.
  I have written; indeed, one story is finished at last, and a second is well on its way, but no real poems, no observations worth sharing here.
Life has become an endless cycle of things to do: yard work, house work, work, reading, trying to sleep, worrying about everything, trying NOT to worry about everything, trying to keep up with friends, trying to write daily in my journal, and not always being able to do that.
This year's "inspirational reading" has been A Year With Rumi Translation by Coleman Barks..
(I kid you not, the man's last name is Barks. Go figure.)
Some of the readings have inspired me to make observations, others not so much.
On January 3, I copied this one into my journal:
               "I used to be shy,
                 You made me sing.
                 I  used to refuse things at table,
                  Now I shout for more wine.
                 In somber dignity, I used to sit on my mat and pray,
                Now children run through and make faces at me."

Could be a human love that inspired the changes, but could also be the playful Spirit of God who calls us all to dance, and play, and sing.
I do know that I an bolder both because of the love and support of my husband, and because I am older now, and more sure of who I am.  The one wonderful thing age gives you is the feeling of nothing left to lose.  You might as well go for it, not much time left, and who knows? You might just grab that brass ring at last.
That's why I share more of what I write.  It's also why I have been brave enough to write fan fiction stories about a show I love, and share them with others who feel the same way.
I probably spend too much time on social media still, and too little time actually writing.  Sometimes I post little thoughts on Twitter and see if anyone notices.  Sometimes, people do.
From my January 4th entry:
Today's Rumi:  "The keys that open all gates are strapped to love's chest."
That one tiny part of the passage - the part that immediately stuck out in my mind.
Love is the answer, the enabler, the source, the motive to so many, many things.
It is the answer, even when we aren't entirely sure of the question...

It surprises me sometimes how profound my off the cuff observations can seem.  Sure, maybe a little hackneyed, but true nonetheless.  Love can repair many damages, right many wrongs, but if allowed to go wrong, it can cause incredible amounts of damage.  When love sours, it gets twisted and turned into something that it is not.  The Love that we consider the Love of God is the only pure love.  Humans can attain true love, but the Love we ascribe to God, loves in spite of all the odds, in spite of all the wrongs done to it, and washes us clean with its forgiveness.  That is what is hardest for us humans, that forgiveness that truly obliterates the things that needed forgiving.  Because part of us always remembers, and hurts, just a little.

So many, many pages of journal scribbles to read through, and no patience this night to do it.  I am tired, still recovering from a dog bite.  Yes, Angel got me.  She broke her tie out cable, and ran up and grabbed right above my knee, because the little dogs were out and had her all riled up.  She usually just stops, even when loose, and barks at me, because she's seen me daily for her entire life.  When she realized what she'd done, after Donna got hold of her, she whined a little, and tried to lick my knee.  She was sorry.  Then she'd bark again.  We think she's got a doggy version of Alzheimer's.  She forgets and she's cranky.  She is 13 years old, and for a dog her size, that's OLD.  She didn't try to rip at me, or mess me up, she just held on, so all I really have is a hematoma  and a bruise.  Only one puncture worth worrying about, and it's small.  Had a tetanus shot, and took antibiotics, but at least I know Angel's had all her shots. People say I'm being too nice about it, but Donna's brother was the one that got that German Shepherd off Bear all those years ago, when that dog just grabbed Bear, and all I could do was hold on so he couldn't shake him.  Donna's brother smacked the Shepherd a good one and got him to let go.  I cannot forget someone who helped save my Bear's life.   Also, I knew Angel was cranky, and I should have been on the other side of the street.  Would have given Donna more time to grab her, though she didn't know the tie out had broken.

Further reading in the journal reminds me that the weather is NEVER what we want.  I was complaining in May about too  much rain, and it being too cold, but now that September is almost gone, I find that it is too hot, and there isn't ENOUGH rain.

Trouble sleeping is a constant in the journal, then and now.  I either can't get comfortable, or I can't shut off my brain.  Usually, if I can't get comfortable, it's because the weather is in the process of changing, and my achy joints tell me all about it.

As for my mind not shutting up, well, the news is, as Pogo observed MANY years ago, still full of "Gloom, Doom, and Rumors of Boom!"  I guess I shall just have to give it cursory attention, vote accordingly when the time comes, and go on about my business.  It's just that the politicians are making it very difficult to really go about normal business these days.  So much hatred spewed from the highest levels of our government, so little oversight, so little done about things that 30 years ago would have gotten these men sent to prison!  The law has not changed, the people in power to DO something have all become cowards. The rest of us are afraid that even if we can GET a united front of the people together, those in power will still ignore us, because they are, in fact, in power.

I am ready for it to be Fall.  Cool but golden days, crisp nights, with the scurry of dry leaves blowing by.  I want to wear my sweaters and be comfortable, I want to drink coffee and not sweat.  I want to be able to curl up cozy with a book.  I want the spooky nights, the scratch of bare branches in the wind, the rattle of dead leaves on the walk, smoke in the air, candles flickering in windows or on porches, spiced cider and hot chocolate, and pot pies for dinner.  I want the cozy season.  I want it to be Fall.

Now that I have added up a few favorite rants, I guess it is time to end this.  I hope my regular readers will be glad I'm back, and I hope I keep this up better than I have.