George Harrison, if he'd have lived would be 75 years old as of February 25th... So in keeping with this celebration of his life and music, I am posting again my essay entitled Still The World Gently Weeps... jc
“George himself is no mystery. But the mystery inside George is immense. It’s watching him uncover it all, little by little that’s so damn interesting.” -John Lennon Continue reading Still The World Gently Weeps
There are moments in time when we try to reassemble life’s rich pageant; assigning the pieces as neatly and securely as we can into a box of our own subjective thinking; a box that hasn’t any room for fresh interpretation. The analysis is so in sync with the cerebral brain that we fail to sit back and enjoy the epiphanies that are present especially when the pieces of this puzzle seem not to fit as we think they should…if our narrative comes together, we call it a miracle, if not we’re disgruntled. We tend not to appreciate that in the perforations of this chaos there are considerations waiting for our attention. It is only when we trip into overload from this temporal way of thinking, thus spilling forth into the mysteries, do we expand our thoughts into the universe of a higher understanding. It is then, I come to realize that what I don’t know is more than I thought I knew and I’ll never know it all. Thus, I stand blessed and open to all there is on the road of perception raining down in the pale moonlight. This is mindfulness at its best, waiting to hand you something you didn’t have an inkling you were in need of.
*Images by Pixabay
Relax and empty your mind of all concepts and temporal concerns. You are here to observe without prejudice… mindful of the environment you know nothing of. You don’t know what the sun or moon is or any other phenomenon by name or definition. The universe is there for you to ingest without any conceptualization. Let your first impressions be the sum of complete innocence as though you were the first human being to see the universe from the earth point of view. To see the world in this manner is not an easy experiment but try. Continue reading Where the Earth and Sky Meet
For some time now I’ve been employed in the process of writing a book on my life with Parkinson’s disease. In this process, my mind has discovered many forgotten incidences in this struggle, so much so that I felt my old blog post on the subject seem severely lacking. Also, I’m probably a better writer than I was back then. So I’ve decided to post excerpts from the book to bring my narrative up to date. These will appear once a week or so as my other writing also continue. Thank you- JC Continue reading Tales of the Frozen Man… PD and Me
In reality, the house was rather small. But it’s enormous in accordance with the memories of my youth as it was the first house I actually remember calling home. Things always seem bigger and grander when the past is taken in by reminiscence under the disguise of myth. Continue reading Home
Just a short distance and I am amongst the trees,
I perceive the shadow of Thoreau and John Muir,
as I enter the realm of Gawain and the Green Man,
While the leaves from winters passed announce my arrival,
amidst the lower brush and decaying branches.
Continue reading Song Of The North Woods
There is something about the grace and serenity of water; it seems lazy and peaceful in one moment and then in the next, it shows great strength and power. Water is perseverance, patient, and adaptable; just think of the Colorado River creating the Grand Canyon. And most important of all, water is fluid… ever changing as the universe. Look up ‘fluid’ in any thesaurus and this is Continue reading Silent Fluidity
A dear friend of mine passed away this week. It was expected but still, the finality of it hits you all the same. My relationship with Jesse was officially his son in law but as my father passed away when I was young, he took on the role of a surrogate father figure as well as a friend. Continue reading The Quiet Of A Stillness
The setting sun seemed to linger for one last glimpse over the horizon. In his solitude, looking out toward the hemisphere our Pilgrim could see the two brightest stars of Orion along the celestial equator, Rigel, and Betelgeuse. The expanse of open sky looked as though it contained every constellation in existence, lassoed and corralled in the heavens above. Our Pilgrim seemed to not have a care in the world, just he and the starry sky above… and the moral law of Kant. It is many who don’t realize these magical moments where the earth and sky seem to touch the setting sun and all is one. It was then after a short meditation he recited a poem written for his Lady and all lovers separated on this day. Continue reading Morning Dew
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Continue reading Whitman, Kerouac and the Open Road