There are a zillion things I want to blog about, but I hesitate. I hesitate for reasons that you probably are aware of if you have a blog. There's so much that's happened lately in my life lately, but I haven't posted about it.

The main thing is: A guy I knew killed himself. This happened a while ago, but I didn't want to say anything (not here) for various reasons.

You never know what kind of struggles are going on inside a person.

When I heard what happened, I went through a lot of emotions, a lot of depression, a bit of anger, a lot of guilt. What if I had asked the guy, "Hey man, lets go get a beer or something." But.

The guy was very skillful and cool. Very quiet though. He was a sneak smoker, kind of hanging back in the shadows when he smoked. I think he was on and off trying to quit like I am. (I'm smoking so stupid...slowly killing myself.)

The guy would catch me off guard and say something screamingly funny...out of nowhere. He had lots of heart and spirit. Others sensed he was kind of redlined out. He could be pretty caustic, dismissive. Angry. I didn't know him long enough to know what his baseline was, though. 'Is this how this guy is all the time? Or is he going through something?'

First I heard that he disappeared. I thought he had just given Florida the finger and he bounced - without leaving a forwarding address or messages. Some time later though, I found out he had taken his own life. Hearing that caused lots of crying and shock.

There seemed to be a lot of parallels between this guy and me. I've never considered suicide, I've seen images of suicide happening. I don't summon these images. I'd never act on them. I've always said it: I'm too curious (maybe morbidly so sometimes)...too curious to see what will happen. And I have a lot of hope for mankind and for me and for me as part of mankind.

I guess the best you can do: Is do the best you can do to be kind and inviting and inclusive of anybody, no matter how dismissive or cold or taciturn or whatever they seem. Give them an invitation, and keep it an open invitation: Invite them to keep going and join in with the rest of the world, even if it's through the tiny gateway you as an individual can provide. Don't respond with coldness. Don't respond with bitterness. Keep an open door. Give them an option, give them every opportunity to connect and stay with us if they can.


A few people have asked what my job is like lately, and I told them: The biggest adjustment to my job was this: Before, when I didn't know how to do something, it was a temporary pain in the ass. I usually knew exactly how to do everything and there was the work- just do it. Now, that state where I don't know how to do anything: that's my every day all day. Each day I have to do something new. It's never boring, but the unknowns can make ya anxious. Anyway, who cares.

I'm off til the 1/9/2013. I've had my decompression period already. Gonna chill out and roam. Gonna drive to Virginia New Years Day if I'm not too hungover. Gonna try not to be too hungover, but there is a party to be at.

I'm going to resolve to get out of this cave more this year. Just out. All kinds of places to go, events to attend. Feeling purdy gooood.


A lot of spiritual advice seems to go to extremes or propose extreme ideas.

Your consciousness came before everything else...everything else owes its existence to your consciousness.

But: There was stuff here before I was born. (Is this body that sits here typing this stuff - is it really just a container that clear awareness was poured into...a glass that will crack one day, spilling its contents out - so it can evaporate back into everything - - never having left, never having been created?)

'I don't exist.'...the 'I' ...'me'- does not exist. You are part of everything. You are everything. (Am I really a part of everything and everyone? Even you?)

But: I have a license and a job and a desk where I sit at work and a social security number and a body and so on. If I make a mistake at work, my ass gets chewed.

I am afraid to ask spiritual seekers questions about these basics. I'm afraid they'll all laugh at me.

Or do these words exaggerate on purpose - trying to push you as far as you'll go toward that unattainable perfections...

Although: Sometimes when my mind really empties out, I do feel like I'm not there. I do feel sort of like I've melted into the background, melted into the surroundings, integrated assimilated... Is this where/how I should be? Is this it? More and more I notice these interludes. More and more, things that used to touch me can't touch dis. More and more - less and less. The bad mind stuff goes away, but I've been wondering if there's some joy coming. As I type all this, I feel like all of it is wrong. It's just exercise for my fingers...I might as well be banging away on a keyboard, like a casio or a toy piano - instead of banging useless keystrokes that create dopey letters on a blog nobody reads. (Woah is me (the not-me).)

There's got to be a middle path in all this. I don't know.

I have been watching videos from for several days straight. I'm sure a regular viewer would be able to come along and shred my blog post to bits. Moreover, I'm sure that for me to sit here and think about my blog post getting shredded - this could probably be shredded. So, once again, I have found the perfect time to stop typing and click the 'Publish' button.


Happy Holidays!

Endless Stories

With some TV shows, you start to wonder: just how is it that the character gets into so much trouble - just by chance. Weekly. Oh no, the main character got hit by a car this week. By chance. Oh no, the main character ran into a multinational smuggling ring of thugs unloading dope in the alley behind his house this week. By chance. Oh no, the main character got mugged. By chance. I know that the writers have to do this to keep the TV show going, to have weekly story lines -- and you have to suspend some disbelief in order for the TV watchin experience to work out. But. Come on.

But: Stuff like my spin-out last night (described in the post below) - - stuff like that happens. Every so often, something happens in your life that you believe is interesting enough, dramatic enough, to write a blog post about. A little story.

All of this personal drama serves to make the experience of watching old TV shows more palatable, more doable. You start to accept it: Yeah, bad stuff happens in life. Hopefully, not as often as my favorite TV show characters. I'll buy it.

And, anyway, what else I got to do? Just sitting here rockin my 40s...watchin TV shows I've already seen - - old shows you find on Netflix. Okay, I'll suspend loads and loads of disbelief. Why not. Whatever.

I've been on an X Files kick lately. At least with X Files, you know that some freaky shit is going to happen - - because that's the nature of the show.

Spin Out!

Last night on I-4 I spun out! It was about 1:30 am. I was driving up the on-ramp and entering the traffic flow, and suddenly, my back-end started swinging up on the left. It had just started to rain lightly. They say that when it first starts to rain, the oil and dirt on the roadway starts to flow off the road and it's really slick. So my rear-end is coming up on my left and I cut the wheel left to try to compensate. Then it just viciously swung back the other way and I tried again to steer into it. That time, though, I spun all the way around and the car stalled and I'm sitting there facing oncoming traffic. I started the car really quick and drove into the center median to get out of the way. Luckily, there was a break in traffic, and I was able to do a U-turn and get it going the right way. Luckily, there was no coppers around to witness this craziness. I'm okay, I think, but I'm kind of rattled. I don't think I was driving too fast or too reckless. It just happened. (Maybe I should slow it down a bit, but if you're not moving fast to get onto I-4, they'll drive right up your buttocks. This being near Daytona and all...they drive pretty fast here. I haven't had a driving incident since high school...back in 1923. I considered myself a pretty good driver. Just goes to show ya...somethin...or not. Right away I started trying to figure out what it meant. Was it a sign, and all that. Is there doom or chaos impending?! But,'s just a thing that happened. If anything, it's a sign to be more careful. Really: it served as a sign to me to stop looking for extra meaning in everything. Or even a sign stop questioning my recent tendency to look for greater meanings in everything. And in the typing of this, and having explained the situation pretty thoroughly, I'm seeing 'signs' that it's time to stop typing this post and wait for the next bloggable personal 'worthwhile' bloggin subject. So okay I will and done.


Driving NORTH soon

Tomorrow or the next day or in some blurry time area between the two, I will make the trek up the mighty I-95 River to North Carolina to see my sister and her branch of family. On my drive, I will see some of the same people from some of the same cars and trucks as we pass each other over and over and see each other at the rest stops. I will find each NPR affiliate in each listening area with ease. I will probably catch some of the wild southern radio preachers for a few minutes at a time when the drive gets anxious or dull. It's an eight or nine hour drive, but I have to stop a lot or my back will be hurting. It will be great to see everybody. I will re-think my current situation in Florida no doubt, and entertain all kinds of ideas about everything. I'll drink lots of coffee for sure. I'll eat a lot.


It's 4:07 am. I've been up for half an hour I guess. The only light is coming off this monitor I'm looking at, watching my typings appear on. There's a little cat meowing somewhere in the dark by my feet. If I put my hand down, she'll surely sniff it and rub against it until I pet her. I could cry about work, but what's the use. I could cry about a crazy relationship that I think just ended, but what's the use. I'm going to be tired at work later, yikes. I've been maxing out the caffeine like a fiend.

Two nights ago I went to this Eckart Tolle reading group, and it's about as positive an experience as I have had in...what...ten years? I love to exaggerate and all, but yeah, it was great. People shared insights and stories inspired by their reading of Eckhart Tolle. A cool thing that happened was: when nobody had anything to say, nobody said anything. It was not awkward. It was perfect. We would kind of meditate on the last thing that was said or just be in that gap in between talkies...that silent, still gap between the talkies. At the beginning of the meeting, the 'guidelines' were read, and one of them that I remember was (roughly): be mindful of why it is that you are speaking. Are you ego trippin, showing what a smarty pants you are (essentially), or is what you are contributing a true contribution to the flow we got going here... I will definitely go back if they'll have me. They're throwing a party, matter of fact, and I think I'll go.


Going shorter and shorter on the haircuts. Will soon be anonymous and bald. Two birthdays I will not be observing this month, and I hate to do my calendar like that, but letting go is letting go. Hurts, but opens up the world to something bigger. I guess. Or. Things rot. Anyways: Music to the rescue today. I was in a hick-ass music store(forgive me), and I found a super terrific find, but I let my friend be the one who claimed it. I'll just listen to it when I hang with him. He likes em more than I do anyway, but I was really really liking this video I saw by them this afternoon on youtube (below). Also, music came to my rescue when I made a sudden turn off on the Kaley Ave exit to hit up Orlando Brewing, where some great and awesome Irish Music was being fiddled and picked. Every second Sunday like that. The music was sooo great, and I horsed around with anonymous other random drunks and knuckleheads who I sometimes see here and there and sort of recognize more and more the more I circulate.


Target: Furniture, Baby, Electronics, Toys

I was in Target the other night and I had a bad case of the can't stop drummin, can't stop struttin, almost even dancin...bobbing up and down pushing my big red Target cart. The emotion/feeling blobs that were bubbling in my bloods were: terror, exuberance, hilarity. It was a weird way to feel - in Target - it was a weird way to be, in America. I needed toothpaste. I grabbed other items, though, because I was there. It felt like people were observing my odd demeanor butyouknowwhatfuckdat. Work is hard. Life is hard. When I get confused or scared or pissed, I just go: “Okay, what’s next? What’s next? Next task, what is it, so I can crush it, what am I doing next: do do do.” Like that. And forget all this self-help crap dammit. It should all be muscle memory by now. It is. I just dance a little. I try to bring it back to the awareness only. Who is it who hears? Who sees? Who feels? Who's doing all the seeing? Who's feeling you up? Not the I. No. Or. I is the awareness. I am the awareness. Either that, or that is total horse shit. And that is very possible. I've been thinking a lot about identity. Am I adding experiences to the basket that is me? Or is that stupid. Do I really have no identity at all? Or am I full of all kinds of me. These words use exageration to get your momentum going I think. They might be holy words, but they exagerate.


Still churnin this stuff out
braver than Burger King.


35 More Years I Guess

The life expectancy for an American male is about 76 years now. So I have another 35 years if things go according to averages. In order to get some perspective, for a good comparison, I tried to think back 35 years - to get a feel for this amount of time. Just for fun. Because I have the day off and I have time today to do this.

Really though I should probably face the fact that I could die any time before or after the 'another-35-year-mark' ...and live my life my life like 'each day is the last' (blah, corny wishy washy horse shit which is true actually, - - 'every day is a gift,' he whimpered, an angelic chorus rising behind him)...sniff...So. ALIVE AND LIVING: not necessarily taking a 23-mile supersonic skydive -but- I should live each day in some kind of a great way...

Anyway: 35 years ago: I actually looked up the the year -- on wikipedia: 1977 ...I don't really remember much from then. And this is good. This should mean that 35 years into the future should seem like a pretty distant conclusion (if that's how it works out) - - because 35 years into the past is barely recollectable.

1977: The only items that I remember from this wikipedia entry:

I remember there being some new weird machine called a Commodore and another called an Apple.
I remember that Jimmy Carter succeeded Gerald Ford as President.
I remember Roots.
I remember there being a new cool spaceship I mean space shuttle.
I remember somebody saying Uranus had rings like Saturn.
I remember my dad watching Luciano Pavarotti on PBS I think.
I remember the Clash blowing up.
Star Wars.
Elvis died.
Members of Lynard Skynard died.

I don't remember much out of that year. I guess 35 years into the future is a 'good amount of time' to have left.


I read and hear a lot of advice about letting go of the stories of the mind, letting go of of this bundle of history we see as our identity. I love my stories a lot though! I used to tell em on this blog all the friggin time. I love my identity way less...but I still cling to it, with a cold dead kryptonite lock. But I guess it's all gotta go, the wise men and wise WOmen say so. This clinging to stories and the clinging to these dopey ideas of self should probably go too, that clinging - it's gotta go. What exactly should stay? Nothing? All of it - let it go - let it flow. I don't know if I'll ever get this spirit thing right or if I should even keep trying. Trying and clinging are the same kind of clinging maybe. I get snagged in a lot of these word tangles. Every thought has a counter thought. Every thought is its own counter thought, because if you let it wind out long enough, it circles back around and bites its own butt like some dumb snake. It's fun trying to figure it out though - finding my balance, my particular blend - it's fun watching what my mind does. Or am I still deriving 'fun' from some kind of struggle. Questioning everything. Until my mind puts the toys down and gets still. Some say a still mind is IT:

To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders. Lao Tzu

This guy says it's just another state

Lots of word tangles. Lots of thinkers thinking or trying not to think.

It's really easy to get carried away with all this stuff.


How to Accept this Moment? - Jeff Foster

Apparently, you are a wide open space. No offense.

If there are words that can be used for it, the words: 'waves on the ocean' seem to fit. You're either an ocean or you are a wide open space or you are everything. Apparently. Acceptance - very important. This thing you are witnessing, this experience (bad or good) is appearing - the 'universe' is allowing it...might as well accept it...all of it. Deep acceptance.

"What you are has already said 'yes' to these thoughts, these sensations, these feelings...even this pain...." --Jeff Foster


Real Life Impacts on On-Line Life

The title pretty much says it. Done. Signing off now....haha. I locked this blog down for so long and almost deleted it. Then I came back to it. I don't know why. I wonder about all the other bloggers I used to blog with so much in the past. I check in now and then, here and there, on other people's blogs. I'm so busy with off-line life lately though. I'm not keeping up with twitter...I barely check personal emails...I've seen a lot of bloggers' activity decline, I've seen a lot of blogs get deleted. If graphed bloggin activity, I guess it'd be pretty spikey. I guess my life is pretty spikey too. I get into routines and I break them.



You'll notice I've titled this post 'Photos' but there are no photos.

I was just now thinking of the constant activity of my brain as this: Someone is constantly passing me photos and asking me to look at them. My brain is constantly handing me images and asking me to look at them. "Look at them. Watch the story of each unfold. Let it take over your entire attention. Dwell on it. Wallow in it. Fume over it."


I found out today that a lady I work with is going after an MFA in poetry. This lady has two kids and a full-time job (and not an easy job). And she is going after a freakin MFA. I felt a mix of feelings while talking to her about it: jealousy, admiration, regret...blah blah blah

My attitude towards writing has really changed. The compulsion is still there, but my attitude has changed. I am not sure what this means, but this description seems to fit. And I'll probably delete this post anyway, like I do.

I had a fun, long conversation with her, though, about poetry and writing, and then somebody scary came into the room, and I directed the conversation out the door and to a prompt but polite conclusion in the hall. It felt good to talk about all that stuff. First time in a long time. It felt a little silly too though. I used to be all about the writing shit, but now, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. The idea of submitting stuff to journals or going after an advanced degree or doing anything writerly like seems like somebody else's life. But the compulsion to write stuff is still VERY STRONG in this one.

I am not sure exactly what I want to do with this compulsion. I should deal with it like any other disease, probably. Whenever I have relapses, I should seek treatment.

I still have this blog. This is a good place for bloodletting and deal with that nasty writing bug.

You see: I have to write...even if it results in my being homeless and having to write on old Whopper wrappers with pencils stolen from lottery ticket counters.

'The Walking Videos'

I wish I had this attitude when I missed the bus.

I'm really into what this guy has to say lately:

"See we can worry about every little thing that's happening or we can stop being so focused on the individual appearances and their descriptions and the judgements we have about them. You know they just arise and we can either focus on them or we can relax, let them be, rejoice, recognize that awareness is not affected by all the changes, and that all changes are pure confirmation of unaffected presence."


Growth Isn’t Always Linear: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

I posted what I posted last time, and then I came across this article on a site that I read and love a lot,

Growth Isn’t Always Linear: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back


As Sour as I Was When I Started

Am I just as sour as I was when I started? It all started when I realized I was getting way too pissed off at other drivers. This is back when I had that hour commute....and all that time to think. This is back in 2007 I think, or 2008. I read a tall stack of anger management books, writings on depression, anxiety books, i'm okay you're okay and the like, emotional iq, blah blah psychology stuff, Buddhist writings...a lot of it. That's all I read for a while there. Has it done me any good? Did it do me good for a while and then stop doing me good? Did I overdo it? Am I in a temporary funk? Am I good on some levels, but I never did fully lick that road rage thing? My soul is okay, but I'm still a grouch on some levels. No visible change, but underneath, I'm grand? Or.... Still depressed. Still anxious. Am I locked on negative stuff, identifying with LETTING GO valves are clogged. Sometimes it seems like I've made no progress. Or maybe it is this: I lapse. I lapse, and due to the progress I made before, I recover quicker. Or something. Don't know what. You never do away with that negative stuff, I know. But. Why am I sitting here thinking about it and typing about it... Why did I feel the urge to type this?

Lately I'm into this guy below, and maybe the whole problem (or appearance of a problem)is this: It's like other times when I really stirred up my spiritual shakes a lot of stuff loose. Anyway, yes, typing all this stuff is already making me feel better. This blog has always been and will continue to be my dumping ground for garbage in my brains. And my place for personal reminders to myself or anybody who cares to read em: Sometimes you need to revisit the old lessons. Sometimes you find a new source or teacher that rehashes old lessons but who brings new stuff, shaking the whole thing up in your head....



Under current conditions, sleep is a seriously hot commodity to me. I just ain't getting enough of it. Some nights there is a reason for no sleep. Some nights there is not.

Tonight (this early morning) there is no good reason for me not to be sleeping. It's just stress. My brain is raising every negative point it can think of, and it is steadily streaming this stuff for me.

I have to step back and determine this: Is this something I want? Do I want to bombard myself with negative crap all the time? Do I really have a choice? Can I choose otherwise? Sometimes the negative crap is there. Sometimes it is not. Why does it descend on me at certain times? ...usually when I'm trying to sleep...

What's the solution? Do I need to think through it? Or do I need to stop all the thinking and let go? Or is there some magical combination of thinking/not thinking?

Sometimes I just lay there and meditate. Or, I try to. Sometimes the thoughts just flood in too hard, it seems, for mediation. So I meditate on that. I meditate on this flood of thoughts: what is it, why does it come...

I think it descends on me in the mornings because I'm half asleep and haven't had time to get my mind going, get my 'defenses' up. Why do I need defenses all the time though?


Near misses with disaster, other people's disasters, implied disasters and a lens that is stuck focused on stupid stuff, a head jammed in a stupid-head mode, a severe perceived time deficit -these are just a few of my least favorite things lately - - but all these things serve as a reminders that brains is like a garden, constantly in need of care...or like an automobile needing maintenance now and then. My Maintenance Required light is on, but it ain't serious.

I have to check in on my mind every now and then. I have to check and see how it's doing. Is it rattling around inside its four walls rambling and fuming? Is it creating a bunch of goofy shit? Is it giving energy to a bunch of ghost trouble? Or is it seated nice and calm on a cushion, empty of all negative crap, connected to the world by not trying to exist separately?

So I'm slowing down today to check in on my mind...listening to slow music...watching the right videos and enjoying cool temperatures and breezes resulting from a nearby hurricane that won't hit here.


Evil Spirits or Something

At first I thought somebody was smoking dope. I was standing in this little spiritual bookstore that I go to sometimes, just browsing. I smelled smoke - some kind of twangy smoke - while I was standing at a bookshelf. I looked over, and the store clerk was walking around with a bundle of smoldering sage. She was going around the store, waving this big, honkin doobie-looking bundle of burning sage - waving it all around and jamming it into corners, reaching on tip-toes - making sure she didn't miss any spots.

Then a guy came out, I think he's one of the owners. He asked her what the hell she was doing. She said that a customer had called the store and said that something 'bad' or 'evil' had followed her home and gotten into her home. She could feel it, the customer. The customer said she was pretty sure that this evil presence or following or whatever - she was pretty sure that it followed her home from the bookstore. So the store clerk was smoking it out with burning sage.

I was going to offer some commentary, but a bunch of weird shit just happened around my apartment, no shit. Ants. I mean, I knew there was a slight ant problem here...but... The timing. And an ant just crawled out on my screen.

I had this one donut in a donut box on the counter that I was looking forward to eating. I just took a break from typing this goofy post to go get that donut, and there were ten zillion ants all over it. Fuck! Evil.


Armadillos This Time

I was outside talking with Mike, Helen and Tim last night, talking about everything. We were standing off the sidewalk, between cars. Talking talking talking, and then, Helen saw something moving, twenty - thirty yards away. She thought it was a couple of ducks. Whatever, we didn't think much more of it. Then, as we're standing there between cars, two armadillos ran out from under one car on one side of us, and they ducked under the car on the other side of us, ran by us two feet away. We're were like...What the hell was that?!

I don't know if I've ever seen a live armadillo walking around like that...sadly, I usually see them belly up next to the road with those big turkey buzzards or whatever yankin their guts out feasting out. You see, armadillos are not very good at crossing streets. Moreover, Florida drivers - a cruel lot - are not very sympathetic to the armadillos' lack of skill at crossing roads. In fact, they're not very sympathetic to armadillos, like, in general. Mean.


Got no plans for the big holiday weekend, Stan. Avoiding the crowds. Avoiding the wrath of the great glowing orb in the sky that'd like to scorch my skins. It'd be nice to find some Irish music somewhere...a friggin guitar man or a guitar WOman...sit outside (with bug stuff applied to my skins) and a couple beers...maybe somewhere. Continue my experience as a human among humans.


Bears. And an Alligator

It's always an adventure when my sister comes to town, a fun adventure. We went to three beaches, we went to a Celtic music festival, we saw bears and alligators.

It's always a party when the bears show up. I should have shot footage of the people who were gawking at the bears, instead of the bears, the people were even more tripped out and trippy than the bears.

Last night we saw one bear, a smaller bear, by the dumpster...we were watching it...and we saw a lady approaching the area with her dog. We tried to wave her off and warn her - - and next thing you know, an even bigger bear came up out of the woods behind her...not chasing her, but walking behind her toward the dumpster for some chow...the lady scooped up her dog and hid between some lumber stacks nearby. I yelled to her that there were two bears...the lady was confused and scared shitless. I walked up about twenty yards away from where she was hiding- because I knew exactly where both bears were and pretty much could tell which direction the bears were going to take off in if things got too tense - and I told the lady to come this way come this way - toward me...away from the bears' escape route into the woods. So she came out of her hiding spot and joined our little band of gawkers (my sister, her husband, me and some other lady. The scared lady with the little dog cussed up a storm and walked off, truly pissed about there being bears all over the place. She was out today too though, getting her gawk on with her daughter and the little dog, when I took these videos. I pet her dog and talked to her and her daughter a little, along with my sister and her husband and five other people...standing around there. There were probably about twenty or thirty people off and on checking it out, arriving, leaving, tripping out about the bears and getting social in this weird, goofy and/or dangerous situation.

There were lots of people out photographing and shooting video...and I felt a little exploitive and whatever but I couldn't peel myself away. Something told me to not be out there but I didn't listen to it. I just like looking at the bears...and I always make sure I have a way to get out of the way and not get in the bears' way.

There was another lady who lives in a first floor unit near me - we stood there talking while one of the bears was feasting right outside her screened in patio. She was kind of freaked out that the bears cut through right near her patio with that flimsy screen...We talked and talked and talked.

She was also weirded out by some of the people who live in our complex...I told her it's quiet and I've had no troubles and blah blah. She told me some dude who walks around with no shirt on and all ...the guy been bangin on her door trying to insert himself in her bees wax or whatever and so on...a guy with a crazy story: pain killer taker ex-cop turned muscle hippie who speed-walks around with no shirt on and joggin shorts with no underwears underneath yuck so that know...kind of know - around in there yuck puke...not that I or you or anybody wanted to hear about that shit and/or least of all see it...

This is nothing but a rambling post I threw together because I wanted to post videos I took of bears and I wanted to give some back-story, but I'm also really tired.

And here's a video of a little alligator I saw earlier in the day.


I found an angel.

I was with my neighbor, walking his dog, and we walked by a dumpster. It's one of those dumpsters with a compactor, and there's a little control panel on the side. On top of that control panel, I saw a ceramic Angel.

It is not the most trying time for my family, but it is pretty trying - - there is some sketchy stuff happening to one of my clan, and a couple of us are trying to make a plan.

I don't usually believe in 'Signs' and stuff like that, but in this's just's a pretty odd coincidence. I guess. Or something.

If my mom would have found an Angel like this - in a place like that - in times like would have really blown her mind. For sure. If she would have found it after my brother died, it would have blown her mind big time and for real and she would have been sure that he put it there for her to find. I know that much for sure.

When I found it, it blew my mind a bit...and now I'm thinking about it...and blogging about it...after not having posted a durn thing to this blog long?...after having this jonk locked long? And I come back with a religious-y post? What the...

Things are just as stressful (or not) as they were before I locked the blog down...and I don't know why I locked the blog down and I don't know why I opened the blog back up.

My neighbor dragged me to Mass on Sunday. It's the first time I'd been in a Catholic Church in a while. The last time was when my sister was down, and we drove all over Florida like we do when she comes, and we went to the Church attached to her old Catholic School on the gulf side, Saint Jude's, in St. Pete.

As I walked up to the Church this last Sunday, there was a feeling of familiarity, even though I've never gone in there in my life.

I took a religion course in college, it was actually under the philosophy curriculum. In that course, all we did was set about defining three words: faith, belief and disbelief. We read stuff from all the big dogs in philosophy, you can imagine. It was intense. It was interesting when we set about defining faith. What is it, exactly.

For me, when I use reason, religion just don't make no sense...some of it...a lot of it. I got on the Buddhism thing in order to try to get my mind right and all, but it is practical and readily practice-able and hands on and easily usable for dealing with stress and sadness and craving and so on. With Christianity, I have doubt. I don't want the doubt. I don't summon the doubt. The doubt just surfaces in my brains...I can't help it. I think that as far as Christianity goes - or any religion out there that might be 'true' - my faith does not come out of reason, out of reasonable thinking. It's a gut thing. It's an instinct. My thinking just gets in the way of it...or...splashes around it, not really altering it. I don't know if it's my thing or the 'true' thing is Christianity or what, but I know that when I walk by a Church I get a warm feeling...from...somewhere. I know that when I say blasphemous shit, I laugh about it, but deep down there's,

As usual, I don't know what the h___ heck I'm talking about, and I'm just pounding away at the keyboard...hands doing one thing (typing), mind doing one thing (fumbling for words), instinct doing not all that much (except sending slightly nervous tingles out now and then)

Anyway, so I kept the Angle. I put on my mantle in between two items I cherish, a lighthouse I got for my mom for her birthday one year, and a painting I received as a wedding present from one of my favorite artists in the whole world.

I thought about it more, and I have the following rambling, stream of thought to share if you'll allow it. A recent 'art project/hobby/stunt/prank' thing that I have been doing lately is to affix unlikely items to walls or windows or wherever in public using small adhesive pads...items like...chop sticks, for example, or little tiny plastic guns that action figures carry. I thought, wow, what if I go to the religious shop and buy a bunch of little angels and start leaving them in places. Would I be a terrible person playing a prank? Or am I impelled to do this, I, myself, thinking it's a prank, but in a bigger reality, it is a good thing to do because when somebody finds it, they'll feel what I felt today when I found my Angel...and it wall all be part of a divine action that I am just a small piece of. And then I thought, woah, maybe this is what just happened to me! I got spirit pranked.

Too much thinkin, man.