Life is but a dream

 
 

Experience is but the dream we pay attention to.

----
            Listen closely... 
            the eternal hush of silence
            goes on and on throughout all this,
            and has been going on,
            and will go on and on.
            This is because the world
            is nothing but a dream
            and is just thought of
            and the everlasting eternity
            pays no attention to it."

            - Jack Kerouac (1922 - 1969)
  ----

It feels like I'm perpetually waking from a dream.

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A coyote and her pack visit us each night. She hunts the voles and rabbits that infest the fields that surround us. She brings her pups along with her as she hunts. They are about eight months old now. They are full members of the pack with hunting and scouting duties. A month ago, she and her pups were feasting on the Italian Plums that remained on trees after we picked all we could eat and dry. I could tell they enjoyed the treat because the shit they left on the driveway was full of plum pits, runny, reddish from overeating the plums. They had to eat them whole as being without opposable thumbs, they found no way to pit them.

Mary and I sleep with the window open, and Alpha female and her pack serenade us with their various songs. Something I imagine that one of the pups gets a little confused and lost and cries out in an attempt to locate the group's position. Sometimes I think she has discovered a source of food, maybe a deer carcass or a litter of rabbits, and is calling the pack to join the feast. Who knows what goes on in the mind of a coyote. They are so exuberant and melodic when they sing to us, we are warm and safe in our bed, and they are out there in the cold dark rural wilderness.

Falling in Love

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When making stuff in the woodshop, the process can be looked at as an interaction that develops new ideas and methods. You are not just making a thing. You are actively engaged with the circle of creativity. Everything is a process, and we must find a way of being at peace with this process. A maker is a designer of processes.

Making stuff is a special privilege. The shop is filled with the smell of freshly cut walnut as I prepare for a small project. Zivon, my shop assistant and quality control manager, is sleeping next to the woodstove, soaking up the heat after his cold but sunny walk to get the newspaper. Jazz is on the radio and Gino Vannelli is singing about falling in love. 

Pardon me
What a rare mood I'm in
Check the glorious grin
And the bright eyes above
Well, excuse me world for being alive
At last I've arrived
I've fallen in love

Writing is a dance of work and inspiration.

The writing process is an interaction that develops new ideas and strategies through a pathway between the mind and the hand. You are not just writing about a thing. You are interacting in a process. A writer is a designer of processes. You and the writing are continually changing. Besides, you are also changing the world.

To whom do I report the theft...

December 2, 2020

To whom do I report the theft of my attention. I had it just a minute ago, and now I'm distracted. Maybe the newspaper stole it. With headlines of "Virus kills thousands per day." It could have happened when I was thinking about which podcast to listen to, which email to respond to, which blog to read. Perhaps the culprit was the National Republican Committee calling me to solicit my vote, or maybe it was the refrigerator, stocked full of goodies. Possibly it happened while on my walking.

Zivon, my super-smart Chocolate Lab, and I walked to the mailbox when we saw a truck pull over and stop ahead on the road, and a pretty young girl gets out. She scampered up the road embankment with a clipboard. Rachel, in her official white USDA Dodge Ram pickup, from the USDA, was here surveying the neighbor's Conservation Reserve Program land. She was checking to see if it is still qualified for government payment. We chatted a bit and discovered we have some mutual friends. She told me how frustrating her job assessing the land was. To qualify, a landowner only had to have the land covered in 50% perennial grasses. A piece of ground could be in terrible shape and still qualify to be in the program. Mildred's CRP land passes Rachel's tests.

My attention seems like it is being attacked like a beekeeper working an angry hive on a hot August afternoon. The attack stately is to overwhelm with thousands of tiny missiles of distraction. The precious resource of attention is being strip-mined to satisfy someone else's agenda. The only thing I think I control is my attention and where I put it. But assuming I have any control over my attention is a fallacy. Stuff just happens, and I can't explain why. I tell myself what I think are plausible reasons why my focus wanders here and there, but this is always done in retrospect. I am no different from you. We are notoriously bad at reconstructing these past moments explaining the meanderings of our attention and distraction.

So, where does this leave us?

Getting Started

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December is a month of giving, and in that spirit, I'm challenging myself to write and publish here one flash atomic non-fiction essay of 200-300 words each day. This inspiration came to me by Massimo Curatella's example has pushed me to act. We'll see.

Finding topics to write about and taking the time to write and revise them will be a sizable challenge. The effort will vary, but if I deliver the goods, the outcome is assured. I'll have to up my game in the communication department to have something worthwhile to read and step up my writing skills. Here are a few more metaphors I could use here to describe what I think touches on the effort needed to succeed: I'll stretch my writing chops, grow some cojones, dance like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

The compounding effect of writing and publishing daily will surface stuff from the unconscious, some of which I'm looking forward to. Some days I expect the writing will go better than others. I hope consistency will prevail over intensity, and by setting the bar low, I can build strength. By the time January 2021 comes around, I'll be a better writer, someone worth reading.