A GREAT CONGRUENCY UNFOLDS

 

A GREAT CONGRUENCY UNFOLDS

 

My thoughts are hyphenated to avoid confusion, and my day divides into day and night, such that I can make significant the time I have with you.  On my feet and standing in the light, the day is founded on the work principal and I have things to do.  The natural rhythm of my step has a signature of its own, and could be thought of as harmony in time, making its’ way to you.  And so this is a blog about how we do it, come together for shared experience, and then go into the night and restore and rest and do it all again, in the light.

 

What is so great about congruency unfolding, and happening in front of you, and why do you insist on talking as the Great Congruency Unfolds?  Obvious to me we have minds colliding in open space and the boundary between us does compete with the freedoms we take, with speech and with the compounding of words that accumulate, because they can.  Is a latin word meaning, to agree and to do so harmoniously , correspondingly and with conformity.  Not sure I think Latin words apply to me, but even so the thought enters my stream of consciousness that physical and emotional and vocal disturbances are believable and compelling, but not as I am willing to comprehend before breakfast and tea.

 

I stand alone and repeat the mantra, “Do unto others as they do unto you.”  And try to not impose my will on the situation as I think, “Payback is a bitch.”  Has nothing to do with being inspirational and what others think you should be, but rather is about the authenticity of one’s placement in the day.  “How’s it going?” and the reply, “Who wants to know.”, says it all to me.  Give and take and for a moment I realize human language might be failing me.  Need to realign and come into line with the path of others, to meet and greet and accomplish something mutual.  Is that possible.  The Great Congruency Unfolds and supports the idea that something like strangers meeting online can actually be compatible, have a long life, and in passing change the course and actions of those in the shipping lane.

 

Looking for a place to put my hat.  Settling on a place to park my feet.  Am done with this conversation with the outside.  Want to sit and reflect on what happens when day turns, and becomes a shadow in the light of stars too far away to really be part of my reality.  Want think about the diamond, and the look that comes with entering the baseball stadium to watch your favorite team.  Mets and Yankees playing, and depending on where you live and who you are, in your heart is the magic of a NYC team, playing well and luring you out to the ole ball park, even as it threatens to rain.  Just heard on the loudspeaker, “It is a close game.  Buy a beer.”

And wonder what is the influence that reaches me in the flow of the game and my presence here.  Reach out and touch somebody, but remember is best to maintain distance and keep in your lane.  As for me, I am projecting.  Not in New York today.  But am listening to a baseball game being played walking distance to where I live.  And decided not to go to the game, and deal with Sunday crowds.  Instead, am contemplating the things as The Great Congruency Unfolds, and remind myself.  “Latin is a dead language.” 

 

Then agree that as long as I am alive, I should enjoy the company of others, and baseball.  Even as I need to sneak in the service entrance, and when inside have no money to spend.  Decide its not about the money or the cost of the experience, rather is about being centered and complete, and winning.  So is the reason sports is important to me.  Going to the ballpark.  I win.  I gain.  Okay, sometimes we lose, but is not as bad as it sounds.  As long as its not an everyday thing, I can deal and pitch and be one with the unfolding.  Mets and Yankees.  What a game.

 

TIME WILL TELL

TIME WILL TELL

Updating myself with the Friedman Unit, where one Friedman Unit is equal to 6 months, specifically the next six months.   At the point where I just want to count on summer and the warm weather to get me out of the house more, and at that point I will become like many, who carry their devices around and stay in contact, but do it their way.  Unplug from the hard wire and you are tethered to a situation that allows for great flexibility.  Do think that it was the yoga and the daily or weekly routine that got me beyond the 6 months of gloom and depression that comes with living north and near the rain-belt.  Carefully hedging my bets between the race track and the baseball field, and will just let the next 6 months tell the story.  Seems to be a lyrics in my head that reminds me of the simple refrain.

 ‘Time Will Tell.”

The next 6 months will stay in my mind as The Election Year fireworks, and often this is done near the 4^th of July down in the lower 48,  there is plenty of opportunity for small town gatherings and speeches.  It Is about people showing up and having their time in the park or on the podium.  Not sure if this is what I will recall as the woman’s year and going around, riding family and fashion and the border line, to get votes, be popular and yes, makes things different for one final time in the history of the world.

Of course, it is silly of me to think things will be different.  Baseball and hot dogs and people showing off.  Is why this is exciting and something I am willing to just find myself out and on the outside of such things, looking in.   Taking the long view.  Its only spring and we are just getting started.  Pent up emotion and anticipation.  Nothing we have to really talk about or invest in, until the formal presentation.   Until then am not going to change too much.  Mist and umbrella will give way to shorts and a golf cart, and will be making the rounds, with or without you.

 

Life affirming days of song and laughter and sun.  Need to take a break from being too serious, and for me the Freidman Unit helps me get the proper measurement on these days of change.  Depends on where you are, if spring and summer are the release point it is where I live in the Pacific Northwest.  North and South and at some point it is either too hot or too cold,  and too much emphasis on one or the other.  In the end, we vote.  How do you want it to be?  Staw polls and a lot of speculation lead me to think, it’s a big deal, and yet I just want to enjoy the time I have, doing the things I do.  Not sure if it is an individual thing, or if it is an experience heightened by technology and savvy, and new ways to get the vote out, and register enthusiasm and involvement in every neighborhood block, one can imagine.

 

Time will tell if this just another set of rumblings with thunder and lightening and camera flashing, trying to pick out the front runner, even if its not me, nor is it you.  What makes this life affirming, only time will tell.  But I am thinking it will be a time when people expect others to not be mean-spirited, and in some ways, play nice.  Get this election process going on,  and into winter and the celebrations of the holiday done as a class act.

 

Not sure exactly what that means, but when I see it, I will know.  “She is the one.”  But not to be sexist I must say everybody has a day in the sun, and equality hints at the fact, anybody can win.  And so it seems, when I invoke the Freidman Unit, I limit myself.  The next 6 months and that seems fair enough to me.

 

Baseball and perhaps it takes 6 months to get a handle on the bat so the score runs  up and favors me and the team or party I choose to stand with and represent.  Stand up and be counted.  Wear your Yankee Uniform.  Let people actually see how it is.  Yankee Hat and Jersey and of course it’s a big place and there are many teams, and many attachments.  Not sure I see this as the beginning or the end, and don’t really want a 6-month extension and drag on getting out of the situation.  Wars end and we stop beating around the bush. Boys come home and become the boys of summer.    Have our say, and then get back to it.  Normal life.  Rain and Mist will again reappear, but now I am thinking, “I don’t care.”  But do not want that feeling to prevent me from doing something different here.  Won’t change much, but will keep an open mind.  Favor me and offer me something I can’t resist.  Boys of Summer.  Hit the Ball.  I need a job.

 

Boys of Summer or wait.  Changes are Coming.  Step up with that one Special Woman and then step back.  Let the light shine.  Let miracles descend.  And yes all of this is Mashable.  The fire can be put out by winter rains.  Not here but in other-world situations the right woman has stepped up, taken the hands of the people and lead them forward.  So Now I am thinking.  Invoke the Friedman Unit.  Georgetown bluster and more of the same, or will we just know.  Now is the time.  Boys of Summer or that Experienced Woman.  On the beach and we start to chat.  Anything can happen, and secretly I am looking for a little excitement and is the reason I find myself out of the house, knocking on doors and saying in my polite voice, “Choose Me.”  Smile and hear the echo of yonder conversation.  Hints and pieces come to me.  Time Will Tell Mr. Friedman.  Time will tell.

 

Remain Calm.  All of this will blow over soon, and your present will be under the tree when the first snows fall.  For now, Trust me.  The Boys of Summer are coming.  How can we lose?  Baseball.  Horse Race.  Cars on a Daytona Track.  And a woman to spice things up and remind us, we could all be in the family way.  And now  I wonder.  What’s up.  And am willing to wait.  6 months and no more.  That seems fair to me.  Score big.  Just win.  Once a year and my team wins.  It has happened before.  Just not in the game of baseball, and certainly not in my lifetime has any of this happened without war. 

“Oh my.”  She said.  “Let’s eat.”  We can talk about the Yankees later, if you must.”

 

ON THE COUNT OF 10

ON THE COUNT OF 10

 

On The Count Of Ten I will start my engines and move on.  For now, I concentrate on the single task of writing a blog, which has not happened for a week or two.  Lost energy when the Clocks were moved to assist Daylight Savings Time.  Power to the people and to the cows waiting to be milked, may your world be solid and productive.  Seems I need this moment to digest the curds and flotsam of another month now dissolved in the solution of coping and another period of life, later to be recalled. 

 

For now I am content that I sit and write.  Is therapy for me, who finds the tinkering of my body clock to be disabling.  No need for details as my silence tells me I indeed suffer when the clocks move forward or back, even an hour, which is enough to throw me into a dismal spin and reduced quality of life.  I stand with the cows, waiting for things to get better.  It is now the midpoint of April and new growth springs from the soil and plants aid me in my movement into the sunshine, where it is known he thrives and feels better.  Salute the Son.  Move forward.  What else can we do, perhaps you have suggestions.

 

I think it good that I sit and write.  See the arrival of Easter and Passover and other celebrations as a good elixir for my spirit and the time-lapse that ails me.  It is over now.  The trial of Aaron Hernandez is over.  Found guilty he will now spend of his life in prison.   Noticed that Blackwater Security Company personnel were also found guilty for things that went on in Iraq, 2007.  30 years in prison is the sentence in that one.  As for the Boston Marathon Trial, defendant was found guilty on all charges, and we wait now.  Live or Die.  And it makes me reflect. 

 

On The Count Of 10, due process is done and now I will erase these things from my thoughts, if and when I can.  Daily news and the things that take years to resolve are all part of the events that happen around me.  Mostly I am just an observer.  I lead an ordinary life.  Sometimes it is boring, but even then I remind myself.  I Am Free.  And on the count of ten, I will do my best to remain this way.  Is the pledge I have made to myself.  Do No Harm.  Live in Peace.

 

Think I am done with worry.  Am done with trying to sort out the intricacies of things that occur in an election year, when one of my neighbors declare their interest in becoming the next President of the United States.  POTUS.   I love these letter alphabet soup indicators of place and position.  Is overwhelming sometimes to not know what is being said.  LOL.   Means very little to me, but I see it often.  Modern times and it is my job to endure and prosper and have quality of life.   

On The Count Of 10, will start my engines and see how things go.  Or how far this kind of thinking takes me.  “I am done with worry.”  This announcement is like fuel for the road or path I am on.  The journey continues as the day begins and the sun rises.  On The Count Of 10.  I blend in and fall in step with natural occurrences and still enjoy the human aspect of daily living.  This is the accomplishment today I celebrate.  And share with you.

 

do it your way

DO IT YOUR WAY

I have an hour before I step out in traffic.  Am assembling a fast-fact-sheet, for my own assessment.  Top of the list I inquire:  “What’s a person to do when it is obvious Tiger Woods, a great golf player, is not going to win the Master’s Golf Tournament in 2015.”  The list is spontaneous, but have decided if I write it down, it will be kept and recorded, not as an official record of a promising life, gone sad; but rather will be a lot like the blogs I write, A transcript of a human, soon to be forgotten.

There was a time when I was totally dedicated to the written word.  Stone Tablets.  Thought they were sacred.  Learned some geography in hopes it would help me, later on in life.  It didn’t.  Now the words come back as triggers for PSTD or some other affliction of living too long.  The words I thought important no longer are.  As an example of some of these words, I make it @2 on my list.  United Arab Emirates.  Qatar.  Iraq.  Jordon.  Red Sea.  Saudi Arabia, Mecca and Medina.  Once important, now forgotten most of the time now that I am retired and left on my own to just be.  And this gives me room for expansion. Time out for an expansion joint.   Time to contemplate the list and what might be on it.  Like I said, I have an hour to kill before I step out in traffic.

 

My mind urges changes.  Subtle hint that I am not satisfied with my current state.  Upon inspection by a 3^rd party, am not sure what the final determination will be.  Too close to the source of my inner thoughts, and is  buried by years of sub-conscious and embedded training.  Learned to read at an early age.  Now I question, “What good came of this.”  Learn to read.  Get educated.  Do what is expected.  Get a job.  Get drug tested.

 

And that is a different list, but it goes on and on.   Subtle changes and over time the world I grew up in has changed.  Now I am retired.  What I think or do is seldom recorded.  So in some way I want to change that.  In 2006 I started blogging.  Had no clue what a blog would do for me.  Blogger and Blog Sphere were new vocabulary.  Nothing to look up, we were basically starting with a blank mind and page.  Last generation and I think my father could read and do math, but he never went to college.  Went to war.  Had children on his days off.  Came back .   Got divorced after 10 years of being out of the army.  PTSD.  What do we suffer after a war?  Put that on my list.  What is the consequences of being at war most of my life, and yes.  I think about it.  Am over 70 years old now.

Time is running out.  Started this blog too late.  Now it feels incomplete, as if I am distracted by a previous schedule and commitment and am not giving this effort full attention.  Then I recall:  Read.  Write.  Math.  And at this stage of the game, it doesn’t all add up for me.  Not sure I am getting the right answer.  But then again, am in a solitary state of mind, have isolated myself from others on the outside.

Of course, that is only partially true.  I write a blog.  It doesn’t have to make sense, even to me.  I write.  I post.  I check back later to see if there are comments and feedback.  It is a blog and not face-book.  So the comments and feedback are somewhat different.  But do notice the element of white page silence or an indicator that somebody out there has hit the like button.  But no words.  Like button enterprise and it leaves me with a smile.  Maybe this is what goes on when time is running out and you are responding to a total stranger that you have no intention of sitting down face to face and having a cup of tea and a social interaction.  But that is not really my main concern for today.

 

I have decided changes need to be made.  Mostly this has to do with I expect in my small world and locality.  State of mind and quality of life, and it has a lot to do with how I want to spend my month of April.  Last year I had plans.  Now I don’t.  Not saying reality sucks, or that I am truly disappointed.  Count Down.  Lift Off.  Noticed some dude is headed out in orbit to the space station with a Russian.  Not sure the details.  Will spend a year in close quarters with Mr. Russian Man.  Maybe a lot like spending time in Blog Sphere.  One year.  And it makes me wonder.  Do we speak the same language.

 

Self-fulfilling prophecy set in motion by the circle of energy I create by putting it in writing.  Later now, and I can look back.  Stepped out in traffic around 2 pm, so yes I did find myself out of the house and in the neighborhood.  Bought some flowers, but not for my grave, as it was not yet rush hour so the threat of vehicle manslaughter was minimal.  Out in traffic, but never in the way you imagine it to be.  Took care of business and now just before midnight on the same day, have Ally McBeal, and Netflix on, with the sound turned down.  Ready to maneuver between reality and imagination, so I can tell you how my day turned out.

Gap and mind-change and so now the tone of this blog is at a level I don’t even recognize.    Same blog, but feels different now.  Like we have pulled the plug on any topic about stone tablets and reading and the art or science of blog architecture.  Lost in time, and never restarted, the noise of the people out in the street with me, is now muted.  Horns and beeping at the intersection of   cell phones and green light sound indicators, keep us safe.

 

Returned home.  Have unfinished business.  And it is late.  By the time this blog is completed and posted, it will be the next day.  And that in itself says it all.  But maybe that is only partially true.  Time is running out.  I need to end the anxiety that comes with a day spent out in traffic.  Consequences are minor and hence I report.  “Had a good day.”  Matters not what I am not telling you.  Another day.  Another blog.  Self-fulfilling prophecy and that’s the blunt impact of all of this.  He talks.  He writes.  He makes lists.

Nothing to look up and nothing to remember, he shuttles off to bed.  Puts the reading light on.  Makes nice with a book and celebrates the activity of reading by turning another page.  Still asking:  Do we still speak the same language?  Makes a memo for the List Department.  Does it matter if a computer is now driving that car, coming directly at me?  Puts the inquiry way down on his list.   Won’t matter unless there is a misstep or a malfunction, and because I am going to bed, all of that is in the future. Has very little or nothing to do with me.  Self-fulfilling Prophecy.  Nudges his NYC buddy and whispers:  “Forget About It.”  So I wave goodnight.  Realizing that I am running out of time and my day is almost over, I adjust the pillows for maximum comfort and close the window on my mind, preventing any more thoughts from becoming yesterday’s words, soon to be forgotten.