Think About It...critics

“I’m feeling rather cynical this morning.”

Strasser was the art critic for a small public radio station in upstate New York. He always arrived at the gallery early to avoid the annoying pretentious crowds that he felt always came to these openings. He looked at the white on white that was the interior of the gallery and wondered if perhaps there was something he was not getting. Was it art? While standing there contemplating the work, it hit him. My god, he thought, it is the nature of unlimited possibilities, the unwritten future, the blank slate of a newborn baby. It is genius. Sadly, Phillip Strasser had misread the invitation and arrived the day before the art was installed. He was after all the very same critic who once mistakenly took a power failure for a performance piece on the darkness of the human soul.

Reflections From The World...

Have you noticed that there is a shortage of "absurdists"?.... and "charming" ,"pleasant", and "quirky" ... "humorists" in the world? ...and we have an over-abundance of "gruff" and "serious" and "ordinary" and "obvious-ists" ..and un-aromatic intellect?    It is as though being witty, wry, and playful, is a rare genetic mutation.

Photo Art: Chip Simons

Reflections From The World...

Gaston Bachelard in his study in 1961. Photo by Bernard Pascucci/INA/Getty

In 1961, Bachelard was interviewed, aged almost 80, at home in his tiny claustrophobic study in Paris. He sits snugly, seemingly shoe-horned into the only available space, between teetering heaps of books piled floor to ceiling, folios to slim pamphlets, the philosopher incarnate, down to his effulgent Socratic beard and unruly white hair. ”Life,” he tells his awed interviewer lightly, ”is about thinking and then getting on with living.”

Stopped To Ponder

*One Dimensional Conscience In A Multidimensional World*

Never in my life time have I experienced as much change. Lets just do a short list...beliefs, values, ethics, moral binding, environmental issues , religious clashes, believers vs. nonbelievers, clash of cultures, freedom rights, civil liberties, nuclear controls, child sex slaves, addictions, prejudice, anarchy, world health, social networking, cyber war, unrest with capitalism and democracy results, war and saber rattling, migration, over population, world poverty, the gap between have and have not’s, treatment resistant virus's, pandemics, aging population, growing number of youth unemployment worldwide, pressures on monarchies, unrest within the oppressed, immigration laws, terrorist, disease, food and water shortage, climate change, political parties, and politicians so bad world wide they have a category all there own. I don't know about you but many of these are new stuff for me to ponder as I deal with my own personal Sh_. I know they have always been there, just out of awareness. 

I'm not sure what questions will be answered in the future that might prove the choices we are making today will be detrimental to our soundness of mind, but I think this is an important distinction that is yet to be answered.

We must not fret...Regardless what we call this period...it is still our beautiful life! Live it. Be a decent, conscience aware being. Understand what brings dis-ease into your life and what brings you ease. We still have some choices to make.

I will leave you with a gift that came from the talented writer, Dorothy Lin..._”a simple replacement of thought could be your achievement of a life time."_

Bloom where you are planted. Make peace with yourself and just get along with it all...Doc

Photo Art: Chip Simons

Entry Note To Self...Biology Of Love

The Biology Of Love

I always think of my ole friend, Pablo, and our discussions of language and how language produces within us a Biology Of Love. Especially so on this cool and bright morning. 

As I made my normal rounds this morning, I happened upon this guy named Harvey. Looked like an engineer type. Very precise and proper. In a good way. I never took offense at his manner. Quite a nice surprise on this beautiful day. We even conversed, discussed and cussed our way around the world and then I asked him, "Do you miss Irma?"  "Just joking Harvey." And did I say he had no humor button?

Well, I was just joking...seems Harvey had no clue. Not even a smile did he give. But it did remind me of the many in my life I truly miss.

"I just don't feel like myself without you," is probably something you've thought when you've missed someone you care about.

This idea randomly popped into my head as I walked on. I remember the words of Pablo;

"I am not entirely sure if the science behind this is accurate because even the scientists aren't sure about the accuracy. Emotions are difficult to understand, and neurotransmitters are difficult to track."

So with that said, here's my take on things: a layman's definition of why you might actually feel like a different person when you're away from your significant other (or anyone close to your heart). Anyway, I'm out here on this grand morning, so why not muck it up with some thought....

Biology and psychology teach us that our bodies naturally produce certain chemicals- hormones are produced by glands, and neurotransmitters by the central nervous system. Evolutionarily these chemicals help us to form emotional bonds to be able to maintain group relationships, intimate relationships, and parental relationships. They help keep us alive. Today, there's a lot more added to the mix, and as a result there's a lot more grey area.

The hormones related to "love" are estrogen/testosterone, and oxytocin. The neurotransmitters most closely involved are seratonin and dopamine.

Again, we produce all of these chemicals naturally, but when you are with someone you love, they surge. When they surge, your body speeds up to process them all. When you spend an extended period of time with someone you love, you basically become addicted to an elevated level of all of these chemicals, and your body becomes used to processing them all more quickly.

If your body is used to producing all of those chemicals, and processing them quickly, can you imagine what happens when you leave the person that causes it? In short, withdrawal happens. Your body stops producing an abundance of seratonin, oxytocin, etc., and to make matters worse, the chemicals that your body does produce continue to be processed so quickly it's as if they were never there.

Now you might be wondering, how does this impact one's emotional state? Well, in many ways, but it usually mimics symptoms of depression and anxiety. This is why so many people say, "I don't feel like myself," or, "I miss my other half," because their body has become used to certain stimulation that they are no longer receiving.

If you think about it, that's why the honeymoon phase in a romantic relationship feels like such a high at the beginning. Because that surge is new, and it feels good. They're all happy chemicals after all. But just like any drug, your body gets used to it, and it still feels good, you just might need extra every once in a while (hello date night).

Anyway, when you're ripped from the person that you love, it hurts. It could take months for your body to get back to normal, and every time you see that person in between, the clock is reset.

So before you beat yourself up for missing someone so much, remember this: "you can't help it."

No discussion needed on this one...best we think for ourselves about this subject...:) 

Whatever may be the reason, I would say it’s a very nice feeling to miss someone...Regards, Doc

Entry Notes To Self...in thoughtful fields

In Thoughtful Fields

What is fantasy? What I dream? My imagination soaring on butterfly wings?

Making believe, I’m small as an ant or as tall as a tree? A tiger with sharp teeth growling at whomever I meet?

A beautiful fairy with magic dust. 

A gnome with feet all hairy

A song bird 

Who sings only for me

A rabbit who smokes a pipe

An owl who gives advice

A handsome prince

In love with me

Sugar n spice

What is fantasy?

A rainbow with gold

Riding on fluffy clouds

Never growing old

Raindrops of sweet tea

Landing on

outstretched tongue

a yellow brick road

as far as the eye can see

my inner child,

a song yet sung

A journey just begun...

To my granddaughter...

My Morning Walk...

My Morning Walk

The sun punches through in a 

white shining ball

To the sound of a single 

unseen seagull's call

The sand, sky, and ocean all 

lack clear distinction

Reality fades to a blurred case 

of fiction...

Entry Notes To Self..my hats

Can A Hat Be A Metaphor?

I like my hat,

or hats rather, I have several, you see.

They separate me in my mind 

from someone else I might be,

but the someone without my hat 

is the someone you would not meet. 

You would not find me without my hats...

I won't come out and that's that.

I'm  not a charming fellow, the me, without a hat, 

We are all probably better off 

if I keep some thoughts under my hat.

My summer fedora is the best you see

Shades me from sun and wind and the sea

Keeping in tune to the sound of my heart

Hears my silent applause, for no one to hear

A feeling of gratitude from those who are near

Still no one around, absolutely no sound

But a smile suddenly creeps

While around everything sleeps

The heart always goes

What the eye always shows

My fedora whispers in my ear

Never give up that feeling you hold

Seems my summer fedora always knows...

Entry Note To Self...just a thought

Just A Thought On This Mornings Walk... 

A little cooler perhaps, but the mornings of our lives always yields their little surprises. The sunlight breaking over the ocean casting her spell of shadows. Storms forming on the eastern horizon. The sound of high tide as the waves white with foam caress the sand. The sound of a sea bird lost in migration, or maybe just Jonathan Sea Gull spreading his greetings of another day.

So many things we can distinguish in our thoughts...an idea or opinion produced by thinking or occurring suddenly in the mind.

An idea, notion, impression,

          a theory, and many more.

Deliberate, perhaps.

Or just musing, ruminating, or even brooding.

All the thoughts that make it so.

Try reflection, rumination and mediation,

It all leads to contemplation does it not?

Pondering and deliberation.

Introspection? I reverie that reflection.

Thinking...Is it not language that makes all thinking so?

For some odd reason, out of nowhere, I recite the poem Invitcus in my head, as I watch eight pelicans disappear toward the southern shore. Thank you William Earnest Henley. Great combination of words that made thoughts which one never forgets. First damn poem I every learned. Thanks to Ms. Brumley.

Ms. Grumbly, as I called her. My eighth grade English teacher, or was it Language teacher?  So much wisdom in that lady.  I remember well her thoughts on how I was steering my ship. " Young man", she spoke, "If you don't learn how to spell and use proper grammar , you will amount to No Thing." How smart she was...nope, not a good speller or skilled on the rules of verse...and now I amount to No Thing...but I lived long enough to use this damn Spell Check....

And who sits at your pilots wheel? Some say fate steers us through, but most of the time it's just you, with your cargo of language and yes your fate...

"...just language, sparked in my brain, making a sea of thoughts in my mind, packed and stored away for my journeys."

Press on, the morning still breaks and life is more than just looking for fish heads. As Jonathan would say.

..and so it goes.

Entry Notes To Self...sweet Magnolia

The Scent of the Magnolia

   

“Well, how are you, Magnolia? Looking pretty as ever,” my uncle always greeted a woman whose name he could not remember. (Men were designated “Coach.”) “Magnolia,” of course, speaks metaphoric volumes: It heralds the woman as a flower of the South, as mysterious and beautiful, her skin flawless; it acknowledges her fragrant allure. And that flower of the South knew full well that my uncle had no idea what her name was.

Reflection:

Magnolia grandiflora, a true native. Does any other flower have quite the mystique? The California poppy, the Washington cherry, the Texas bluebonnet? Not a chance. They lack a perfumeas strong as knockout drops, they lack the magnitude of the creamy tight buds that open into face-size blossoms of extravagant beauty, and they lack gravitas. At the first funeral I ever attended, a full-open magnolia blossom lay on top of the gleaming, dark wood coffin. One was enough.

Entry Notes To Self...distinctions

Reflections From The Sand

Memorial Day weekend on the beach...what a sight. The first plunge into summer. What a release to let go of winter past. Young families, hoping to share a moment and maybe establish a tradition. At least that's what I think they hope for. What I notice most are the children. For some their first experience of sand and waves. 

I noticed this little one, about three years old, I suppose. I guessed at her age based on the age of my granddaughter, but a good guess never the less. Red candy striped swim suit, blond hair and in her own world. That age where they explore with their senses one moment and the next just run in circles like a child possessed, or like the feeling of the greatest freedom. I think she felt free. Who knows but she was a delight to observe as she splashed her feel in the surf filled holes as the tide rolled in, paying little attention to the cries of her parents to be careful. Such beauty as she played with the waves lapping at her feet then retreating.

Then there was this father with his young son, dipping in the sand with one of those nets and  sharing the capture of a sand crab...will they remember that moment? I hope so, I will reflect on it often.

Then I noticed this small, independent one. Still wearing diapers covered by one of those Micky Mouse swim bottoms. He would not let his father hold his hand to make it to their resting spot. Very insistent  to make his way on his own. About two years old, still a little wobble in his walk, teetered with every step, especially in the depressions of the foot prints. Almost falling with every step and when he reached the incline of the beach, his little body speeding much faster than his brain. How funny as he struggled between the line of balance and face down in the sand. Pausing occasionally to do whatever his body needed to keep it all together. It suddenly dawned on me that he was experiencing what I experience. You see as you age, there is a point where one experiences the same feelings as my little friend, teetering on the  edge of balance or face down....it's so nice to be two again...

Then my eyes happened upon this young lady, under her umbrella, reading a book, then pausing and staring into the sea. Could be many souls trying to find a moment of peace but her mood was different. Behind that stare was a loneliness. You know it when you see it, but it was not her loneliness that captured my attention, it was her special power.  I realized what power she had... in the magic of hiding her loneliness as she smiled and bid me a nice day...

Wishing my family and friends a happy Memorial Day Weekend...

"If you attend to what annoys you, you are giving it energy and keeping it alive..."

In a small bar in Algiers

I remember well the moment I heard those words. It was a warm and muggy afternoon as I walked into a small bar in Algiers.  He looked up from the corner table and asked, "Are you lost?" 

I told him that I had been that way most of my life and I kinda enjoy it. "What about you?" 

"Not lost, but ugly. Born that way and I kinda like it." He quipped...

He spoke with a mixed gumbo French accent, much like the half bowl of mixed seafood gumbo he was caressing. An old grey hat pulled over his eyes making each remark a surprise. Said he was from up around St. Landry Parish. Part of the Chanier clan but has lived in Algiers for over thirty years. 

"Just call me Horace, named after one of them Roman poets," as he reached out his experienced hand.

We had a beer or a few before it was all over...along with some good laughs, lies and stories he shared of life along the Mississippi. He works a tug boat on the River, and has for thirty two years. Lost his wife in the Katerina flood waters. Said his wife was a fine woman and a blessing . Two grown children, that in his words "never amounted to much..."

I asked him if he gives much thought to Katerina and his loss, and his answer was my lesson for that day...

"You know Doc, I did for several years, but after one of them sleepless nights, I decided that if you attend to what annoys you, you are giving it energy and keeping it alive." 

Strange how in those little moments of our lives we remember the smell, the visual, the arrangement of words strung together in a way we can easily draw from our memory. How our mind works to hold onto painful memories and how it works so we can finally make peace with ourselves. In those moments we realize that peace has always been ever present in our Being and always resided there...just waiting...and completely available through all our experiences. 

Photo By: Dado

Entry Note To Self...

My Morning Walk

The ocean was fairly calm this morning. Calm before the storm as they say as I keep a watch on the dark western skies. Seems there is a storm brewing in the gulf. One of those tropical cyclones as they call them. I had to smile this morning. Before a storm in  this part of the world they remind you to upload your insurance policies to iCloud. You know, we need a storage like that for our dreams.

I noticed this young boy building a sand castle. He was at that age where his two front teeth seemed to big for his face. Very precise he was.. building his dream in the sand. If the wall was not just right he would take his shovel and repack the sand in the plastic mold and place it just to his liking. As I walked by I complimented him on his efforts. He smiled showing those two large front teeth. 

He was in a race against the tide to finish his dream before it was washed away. A lot like all the dreams in our mind. Just perfect before they are washed away by the tide of reality. I am sure he will rebuild his dream again. Maybe tomorrow, next year or even thirty years from now when he brings his children to the beach and shows them how to build a castle in the sand. His name is Hayden, enjoying his dreams in the sand...

Wind blowing out of the southeast as I feel the heavy air of the low pressure streaming its way to the north. As I made my way against the wind there was a poem that stuck with me like the salt was sticking to my skin. I came across it in my reading last week and it seemed fitting for this day...

And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, come perfect days;

Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,

And over it softly her warm ear lays;

Whether we look, or whether we listen,

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten…

―James Russell Lowell

Enjoying my dreams in the calm before the storm.

From The Sea...Sea Legs

Sea Legs...

From time to time I enjoy extended periods of sailing at sea. The periods of aloneness, 

periods of earthly delight and some periods filled with just enough fear to make you attentive to your task. Some feelings I carry when I leave the shore but when packaged with different sensations makes you perceive those feelings a little differently. Your being needs those moments for better footing as we make our way through our life journey. Each trip always brings its own surprise. Something different.

For me,  the one sensation that always remains the same has been the first few steps I take when I  touch solid ground after the adventure. Sea legs, I think they call it. A step or two and it's gone, and then there are other times it lingers a spell. I like it when it lingers a spell.

I step off the boat at a place called Oyster Creek. Not much there, really. Just a small hut for the Harbor Master, lots of crab traps, netting and a few deck hands unloading their catch and preparing for another run at the shrimp this night. There is a small bar at the head of the dock...it's called Molly B'S.  One small burned out neon light announces her presence. As best as I could tell it once said "welcome." I point my sea legs toward her opening and make my way in to be greeted by an ole' lady behind the bar.

"Good evening Carl,"...seemed she called everybody Carl. She was leaning on a horse head cane and wearing a mischievous look. "Need to wet your whistle a bit?" She asked.. "It's Ale, don't serve no beer here. I have two kinds, dark or light."

She made me smile and we told each other a few of those  get you in trouble stories. Seems she had out lived two husbands...said "you know two is enough and three would be too many." 

She asked what I was doing in these parts? "Just trying to change my latitude a bit dear lady," I responded. 

She smiled and asked..."Going to save any of those changes?" "You know as we get older I don't think we develop more patience, I think we just don't give a damn about the pointless drama."

We continued our friendship for a couple of Ale's. I hated to end our conversation, as I always do with a person of strong character. 

As I departed, I heard her say, "Doc, never look back, it might distract you and them sea legs from the now."

I never looked back, but I did tip my hat to Molly B. and from somewhere in my mind remembered a little tune by John Prine...

The last time that I saw her

She was standing in the rain

With her overcoat under her arm

Leaning on a horse head cane

She said, "Carl, take all the money"

She called everybody Carl

My spirit's broke

My mind's a joke 

and getting up's real hard

Come back to us Barbra Lewis...

Somewhere from the sea...