Why can’t Christmas Gorilla go to the Beach?

The little gorilla loved Christmas at the beach, but he wasn’t allowed to go down to the sandy beach.

The little gorilla had on his red and white Santa hat, and

The little gorilla had on his bright red boxer shorts, but

There was a winter storm out there.

Rain and 13 mph winds out of the SSW.

The Christmas Gorilla didn’t want to get his special Christmas costume wet and sandy.

So, he sits on my desk with that look in his eye that Tawny (my golden retreiver) gets when she wants to go outside, eyebrows and all.


See what I mean? How can I ignore that silent plea?


This is Tawny waiting for me to take her down to the beach.

And that’s where the problem lies, with Tawny’s obsession.

Rocks. Rocks the size that would fit into your hand.

Tawny has a game she plays with these stones.

She finds a good one on the gravel road in front of the beach hoouse and carries it happily in her mouth the 50 yds or so to the sandy beach.

Whereupon she runs out on the playa, stops, and tosses the stone into the air.

And then digs, spraying sand out behind her like snow from a snow blower.

My grandchildren love this and encourage her.

She needs little encouragement.

She makes a crater, and then another one a little further down the beach, until a trail of craters is left behind us, marking our path home.

Finally, she carries her stone back to the beach house and hides it in the beach grass withher other stones and an occasional tennis ball.

She also does this in our backyard in Corvallis, until

We put in garden boxes.

So, how is that the little gorilla’s problem? Well let me tell you:

1 – Tawny gets sand all over the Christmas Gorilla

2 – The Christmas Gorilla wants to dig too

3 – Water (rain and ocean) are not good for a, pardon if I say it, a little stuffed Christmas Gorilla

4 – There are birds on the beach,  crows and gulls, that would like to snatch the little guy

5 – I’m afraid tawny, in her frenzy, will bury the little gorilla.

See, my arguments are well reasoned.

Oh, well. Let’s go.

– Small town boy

PS – to my Australian friend, since I graduate from both OSU and UofO (masters @ Beavers and doctorate @ ducks) my daughter says I’m a duckbill platypus!

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In the Dark of the Morning

In the dark of the morning,

In the cool of the night,

My life begins anew each day.

My heart searches you out

To be reassured that you will

Be with me today.

You are not a morning person, I know,,

And I believe in early to bed and early to rise

Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

So your day ends after mine,

And my day begins without you.

Be that as it may, I enjoy the dark morning,

Hoping the sky is clear and the moon is out

And Orion is walking the skies.

I am alone now, but soon

You will wake and ask for coffee

And a NutriSystems little bag of granola,

And my day will begin again,

With you in it.

A touch, a smile, a joke, a text,

Or an update on world events,

And we are synched again,

My heart beats with you,

And I feel you with me

As I go to Fitness Over Fifty

For my morning exercise,

Leaving you to see the grandchildren off to school.

I’m not with you tonight,

But this dark morning, in the cool of the night,

My heart finds you,

Sleeping,

And dreaming of when

We’re together again.

– Small town boy

Live in the moment

I subscribe to Lauren Ostrowski Fenton

Who does deep meditation and

Life counseling on YouTube.

She, and others, tell me to live in the moment, not the past, not the future.

As part of the work I’ve been doing with myself and meditation over the past few years, this makes sense to me.

But,

I noticed this morning, as I drove back from the grocery,

My moment is moving,

Through time and space!

When I try to focus on a moment, to enjoy with all the senses the delight therein,

It is gone, and replaced by another.

So I start again, quieting my mind,

Relaxing (not too much as I am driving),

I smell the smells of the moment,

I hear all the sounds of the moment,

I taste, I feel, I see !

And then poof,

It’s gone

And I find myself in a new moment.

This one’s a little different from the one that just went past.

I’m beginning to get a little giddy.

I find delight in greeting each new moment.

I await without expectation what the new moment will offer.

Just this moment I’m filled with love for you.

Just this moment I’m filled with love for me too!

Oh God! What a moment I’m having!

-Small town boy

The Foolish

The fool archetype:

The Fool/Jester archetype urges us to enjoy the process of our lives. Although the Fool/Jester can be prone to laziness and dissipation, the positive Fool/Jester invites us all out to play–showing us how to turn our work, our interactions with others, and even the most mundane tasks into FUN.

http://www.uiltexas.org/files/capitalconference/Twelve_Character_Archetypes.pdf

If I am foolish,

I jump out of the box,

I push the envelope.

I am creative.

Humor is my life’s blood.

Shame has no place in my foolish world.

To be quiet is not foolish.

You’re not foolish when you are in a rut.

The foolish are shocking, startling, and unexpected.

Share your foolishness with others, with the world.

I cannot love foolishly, for with each effort I lapse into sincerity, obligation, and deceit.

Who loves a fool ? Everyone.

Who wants to appear foolish? No one.

Let go! Let go! Let go!

Do one foolish thing right now.

I am writing a foolish poem right now.

I’m smiling and feeling happiness.

I love the fool in me, and all the things he does, right or wrong.

Do you think me a fool for telling you this?

– Small town boy

Waiting

I’m waiting in the garden.

For what? For who? For when? For where?

I don’t know.

Like Waiting for Godot.

I’m beginning to see

Not what I’m waiting for,

But how I wait.

I wait with more presence,

I’m more here here.

I wait without expectation,

But I’m not disappointed.

When I’m not waiting I feel edgy;

I have to find something to do with myself.

By when I’m waiting, I have purpose,

And intent, and focus.

Wait with me won’t you ?

And we’ll see what turns up.

-Small town boy

Somebody else

I’m not writing this.

Somebody else is.

I’m not thinking, I’m just writing, typing for her.

Monica.

My spirit guide, one of them.

I told her I would let her write.

She wants you to know that it will be alright.

(Do you know what she’s referring too?)

She knows it will all work out in the end.

(Got that?)

In the mean time don’t fret,

Look inward. What do you see? Turmoil?

Calm your turmoil and the external turmoil will dissipate.

Sit for a moment without electricals.

Be self sustaining for a moment.

If you want something, ask for it.

Do good deeds.

She wants you to know she knows that it isn’t easy. It’s hard. And you think soft is weak.

She says it’s the other way around.

It is easy, and soft is hard.

Give up those thoughts that have gotten you and everyone to this point,

And listen without words.

What do you hear?

My heart is filling up as I do this for her.

Mine is not the only spirit guide, you have one too.

Where did I meet her and learn what her name is and what she looks like?

On YouTube!

Try it.

– small town boy and Monica

If I said that I love you…

If I said that I love you
I would be wrong,
Wrong headed,
Wrong thinking.
Because it would imply that I have strong feelings for you,
Feelings I would have called love.
My feelings that became strong when you are around or,
When I thought of you.
Let me suggest that love is not a feeling that I have, but
Something, some force, that has me, always.
So when I say that I love you,
What I mean is that my love acknowledges you as one it desires,
And jumps to my attention so that I must tell you.
And when your love acknowledges me and my love,
We, both of us, are IN love, together.
And so, when we are admonished to love one another,
I think it means for each of us to recognize the love that exists in the other,
And act on it.
We don't acknowledge gravity by falling.
It exists whether we do so or not.
Love is like that.
Love exists whether we feel it or not.
So?
So respect it, acknowledge it, and act on it.
Love is for us all, you, me, that person over there and the person next to you.
You can start by giving them a gift:
Listen.
And then give them another:
Speak your truth.
And feed them and hug them and offer safety and comfort.
I'm not kidding.
Love demands this of you.
You are the only you in the whole of creation.
You are the only one who can do what you do.
The only one who sees what you see.
When you love, you share this uniqueness with another, an other.
And they share with you.
So, I'm not saying I love you anymore.
I'm saying that I share my love with you.
Yes?
– Small town boy

My love receiver

I would be lying

I would be lying if I said I didn’t care.

If I said it didn’t hurt.

I would be lying if I pretended not to notice you there.

Lying to myself, because it is readily apparent to you

That I love you.

I don’t know how you know and how it’s hidden from me some days.

Each day begins with you; you’re on my mind and in my heart, so

I guess I know too that you love me.

Why would I be lying if I spoke roughly to you?

How would I be lying if I said some unkind word?

When would I be lying if I didn’t tell you each day how much you mean to me.

Let me not wait till you’ve gone to state my truth to you each waking hour.

Let me not lie to myself that I am without you.

Let me say how much you do each day for our family, our marriage, our home.

Let me not lie.

There is no time for it.

– Small town boy

If you were me

I'm stymied, I guess.
I haven't written for a while,
After criticism and censorship.
The problem I have is this:
Each word, each thought has been dug up,
Dug up from the internal (and eternal) junk pile that is my recollection.
These thoughts are mine, I own them, and yet…
I permit the criticism of others dear to me to destroy my writing; my decision.
And so I approach each new thought with their censorship in mind; don't dig too deep.
Ok, so maybe I didn't think through enough the offending thoughts.
Maybe they were right, but still I must admit a stricture on my thinking.
And so now I begin again to write.
Unable to keep these thoughts buried, I must present them to you.
You have a right to your opinion.
I have a right to mine.
But should I publish for all the world to see?
Do I needs/must take into account the effect on others,
Or do I only have obligation to my Self to write what I feel?
Who reads this stuff anyway?

– Small town boy