Thoughts.com

   2^ND THOUGHTS

 CROSS   ROADS

When I was younger, I learned in school, the expression: “All Roads Lead To Rome.”  And this was before President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963.  And it stuck in my mind that President Kennedy wore a cross, was the first catholic president elected in the United States at the time.  And further, that the Pope lived in the Vatican, and although at the time I had never been there, I associated Rome and the Vatican and the Pope and President Kennedy all in the same sentence. 

And it was so long ago, not sure anybody was listening to me, when I said.  “This is my life, I wonder what I should do with it?”  And events swept me along.  And somewhere in time, I had second thoughts about the importance of such things:  My blog for today:  Cross  Roads and 2^nd  Thoughts.

I can’t go back.  1950.  1960.  And now here we are.  2012 and I have seen more than I thought possible.  Eyes wide open.  Brave New World.  Along the way, Mid-Life Crisis and separation got the best of me.  Much of the details, I swept under the rug, or dismissed as I headed out, to travel the back roads and do a little fishing.  Thought it was important to be under a blue sky, find freedom in the current of a long winding river, mostly alone. 

Aspects of a personal life that crossed boarders and sea, and got on an airplane more frequently than the NYC commuter train rider during an average week, and yes at some point found myself in Rome, Italy.  And noticed everybody wearing a cross, or something visible indicating an attachment to The Christian Life.  Never met the Pope.  Left Rome the day before a bomb exploded in the Airplane Terminal, 1984.  Have never been back.    And I remember.  I began to have 2^nd Thoughts.  About everything.

And all the small drops of rain fall to earth, collect and somewhere in time and place, rivers form.  Some dry up, others join to make a chain of water, and eventually a sea or ocean appears, and I think:  it is all connected.  Cross.  Roads.  And 2^nd Thoughts.  And is not a problem, but makes me think.  Where I have been and where I am going, and decided:  Without You.  It doesn’t matter and details blur together.  Face in the crowd, and where are you?  Lost you.  Crossed you off the Intimacy List. 

Leaving me, in a river with rod and fly, hoping to catch the next best thing.  A big fish.  Some trophy to hang on my wall.  Was never about needing to hunt and gather.  When we were together.  You did all the shopping.  And cooking.  And all those little things, I never noticed. 

Why? 

Flying around.  Rome.  Paris.  London.  Making a living, but really.  Now I am having 2^nd thoughts.  Ask myself often.  What would it all have been like, if 1963 had computers and a home-based work force.  No more roads and a boss saying, “Go.  I need this business.  I needed it yesterday.  Go.”

And with a sense of duty and urgency.  I was on the road.  You had no way to really be with me.  And the story needs no repeating.  Lost in Space.  The world gobbled me up.  It just happened.  Like the assassination of President Kennedy.  It still affects me.  I think about it.  Misery Loves Company.  And it is ok to wear a cross, travel the roads when you go fishing, and yes: still okay to have 2^nd thoughts.  In 2012.  An Election Year.

DICE   MIX  TOSS

Oh boy.  A blog about domestic life and cooking.  But then we remember, stoney blogger and would we really turn him loose in the wheel-house or the kitchen?  Interesting thought as the Alaska Cooper River Salmon come to a restaurant near you.  And the hype, and with every word of media attention, the price goes up by a nickel, maybe more.  And that’s when we know, this isn’t really about cooking and kitchen and market. 

More about Mom and Dad in the kitchen.  Children are asleep, and am putting you on notice.  Its one of those days and when things are dicey in the real world, this is what parents do.   They sneak away to find a pleasure all their own.  While the kids are sleeping.

Every parent needs a break.  And he came home early.  Pleasant surprise.  And she gets into action.  Breaks out the Miracle Whip.  Says with an excited voice, “Ok then.  I want a free sample?”  And that’s when it becomes apparent; room temperature and things are beginning to warm up.  Secret Receipt.  Use fresh and locally available ingredients.  Make nice with warm hands, kneading the dough. 

And without warning, we find Stoney Blogger near the mixer.  And there she is, adding the spice, but at the moment, he just got home, not ready for the full meal deal.  Just wants a kiss, will wash his hands, and then who knows.  The kids are sleeping, and like we said, every parent needs a break. 

And she knows what her mother taught her, at moments like this.  “Mix, stir, tumble, agitate, jiggle and toss.  And do it quietly.” Mother said.  The children are sleeping.

Just came home.  Pleasant Surprise.  But now I am asking myself, “Who is this woman in my kitchen?”  Mother died in child-birth.  Many years ago.  So the story goes.  And these are the musings of a tired man.  Worked all night.  Made excuses to not put in an extra shift.  Just plain had enough.  And the children are sleeping.  Maybe a nap.  But then, all of this.  Throw out the dice.  Take chances in real time.  Take a closer look.  What’s going on?  In my kitchen.

So now we are on a different subject.  Cooper River Salmon.  Caught before the spawn.  Now in the market and in your kitchen.  And I ask, “Who are you?”  And before I could get an answer, I could hear a child crying.  And that is when I realized, I was having a day dream.  Reality is in the next room.  A child is crying. 

And I look around, as quickly as it started, Mystery Mother is gone.  And I am left with smoke and mirrors.  Dice.  Mix. Toss.  My blog for today.  Delicious.  When you add the children, and declare.  “Dinner is Served. Cooper River Salmon.  And your favorite desert.”  Hints of Mother.

ROGUE THOUGHTS

Woke up, or started my day, and once the basics were done, I sat down with a cup of tea, and instantly I came up with a title for a blog, not yet written.  And could not decide, how it should actually read, but did understand what I was after.  Had to do with having a bad date, and what you could do at the last moment, tittering on the edge, losing another trophy fish or brilliant person, you wanted to get to know better, but aware.  Do the right thing, or she blows you off. 

And not sure that has happened to me in a long, long time, the dating scene.  Currently, I am in a delicate position.  Single, but with great responsibility, self-imposed.  But back to the proposition.  How to come through with the winning moves, when the game is almost over?  And remembered something from my youth.  “Top it off.”  Meaning, when you are filling up the gas tank, and you have plenty of money, Top it off, and make sure you can drive and drive and drive. 

And then this morning, it came to me.  A Title for today’s blog.  TOP IT OFF WITH CASH.  Or better yet:  TOP OFF. 

And the more I thought about it, I didn’t think this would be appropriate, even when I thought, this is what I need to do.  End of the evening. 

No door-step moment and a nice kiss to end the perfect evening and date.  More like, still stuck in the coffee shop, and she is about to walk.  Not going well.  And not about to, unless I find the second wind and go the miracle mile.  Perfect.

I’ll Have One More.

The Triple Crown.

Nothing but a horse race, and somebody has to win.

So that was about dating and how to top it off, so that there would be a second date.  And it occurred to me, to take a chance.  In my real world, out and about in places not the USA, and it is not really tipping, but when you hand somebody a $10 bill, they begin to see things your way.  A little.  And I have been careful, not to call this a bribe.  Words make all the difference.  What you say or don’t say.  At the critical moment. 

And I pride myself, over the years, to close the deal.  If it is important enough, its ok to bend the rules some, take a chance, and go out on the limb.  Not a mile, but willing to stumble and fall some.  No damage done.  Try it out.  Your rogue thought.  Who knows.  It might work, and the girl goes home with you.  Believe it or not.  It could happen.  If you work good magic. 

Good Ju-Ju.

So it comes down to this.  3 ways, and I tell myself, Top it Off.  Have extra money now to spend, is why you did the computer dating service call for possible attention.  Let’s have coffee.  Meet in a public place.  If its not working, and it never does, we can go home.  Drive yourself.  Departure options are available.  And then part 2 and 3 came to me.  Have money, will travel.  Or Part 2:  The Struggle for Acceptance.  What are we willing to settle with.  And Part 3:  Do The Right Thing.  And of course, you’ve been here before.  What is right for you, is not right for me. 

And back to Parts 1 and 2.   Have money in my pocket, but can’t buy your way.  Struggle for acceptance.  Really want a second date.  This person is really nice, but so far, not making the right impression.  What to do!!  What to do?

And this is just an instance when a Rogue Idea arrives.  Maybe spontaneous and surprise is what is missing?  Dating and this is not fun.  And without much hesitation, I went to my pocket, and put a $100 on the table, saying, “ This has been nice.  But we should go.  I think it proper to leave a tip.”  And horrified, she looks at me, and in a proper manner, says, “Isn’t that a little too much.  Its just a tip.”  And added in a moment of candor.  “I have a good job.  Money isn’t what I am after.”  As if to say, “Another miss-step.  He’s trying too hard.  This isn’t working. Time to go.”

And then we topped it Off.  Happened when I said.  “The $100 is for you.  It’s not the tip.  We will give them $5.  We can put it in the tip jar as we go out.  This is for you.  Take it.  Go shopping.  Have fun.  Do something you don’t usually do.  I had a good time.  I want to see you again.  But its not a tip and I am not trying to impress you.  Just think your time is worth something.  First Dates often just aren’t what you expect them to be.”

Rogue Thought.  True Story  (kind of).  She looks across the table.  Said.  “I believe you.  So here’s the deal.”  And puts $50 on the table.  “Go buy a new shirt and some cologne.  I like  XYZ.  My favorite color is green.  That would look good on you.”  Then call me and invite me out to dinner.  We will give it a second chance. 

And yes,  I will wear the new dress, a $100 can buy me.  I have been looking at it all week, but without the right occasion, what’s the point?  And she smiled.  You call.  I will choose the restaurant.  And yes.  “I like your rogue idea.  It was a pleasant surprise.  Conservative guy.  Date going south.  And yes.  It was fun.  Finally.”

 Let’s do it again.  Next Friday.

EFFERVESCENCE

The very though of this is effervescence to me.  It bubbles up from within.  No correspondence to yesterday, for me it is the beginning, which has no history.  Personal.  Not yet.  It is just an idea.  No follow through.  No layering of fact and experience to provide a foundation to build upon.  Yet, “There is nothing new under the sun.” 

Reminds me, that there once was a blogger and a site with the name Effervescence.  And also back then, in Arkansas, Little Rock.  A band or music group in 2006 or after had that handle.  And maybe I was aware, but without history and direct connection, means little now.  Familiar.  A word, but nothing more.  And am telling you this to support the statement made.  No correspondence to yesterday, for me it is a beginning.

Familiar, and yet very far apart.  Words that connect me with you.  Like this blog.  Starts out without much purpose.  A beginning.  Perceived Energy within, suggests I must take a moment and write this, for self interest mostly.  Mental presence and it is different than how I behave, as daily routine and habit.  Blogs come and go, and so do the words associated with it. 

And yet.  Built into all of this, is human behavior.  The nature of the collective effervescence, built into me.  But then I am a primitive.  Starting over.  Basic level.  Elementary Form.  And so it is I have found myself reading a 1912 book and material that came after.  Title:  The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life.  Author:  Durkheim. 

And from this point, I find my thoughts contained and bounded by the printed word.  Seems Durkheim, the author studied a tribe of Australian Aborigines, and then wrote this book.  Giving name and form and space to the nature of the collective effervescence.

And now I ask.  What does this have to do with me?  Child’s Play.  And by some transaction in my life, I find myself going back to stages of childhood, to discover what is missing.  Western society and I followed it to a T.  School.  And then more, educated in the way of modern America.  At first I did not see the direct correlation for the disconnect that happened.  A child.  Now an aging adult. 

And it is said, that people of all ages play.  But I have forgotten.  Is this true?  Am I playing with you?  Is what we are doing, in the collective effervescence fun?  And all this comes to mind, as I sit on the ground, with shading provided.  I watch the children, deep in play. 

For a few moments it is not about me, nor the responsibility I have acquired.  Brings joy to just sit and watch.  Child’s Play.  And in the pure form that comes from within, all this makes me feel connected.

Massive effervescence.

KULU DADDY

I am sitting in my shadow, the sun is going down, and lately I have been experiencing changes, of mind and body and perhaps, soul.  Not sure it started last week or the week before, when I read and researched a new company, on the west coast of the U.S.A, that was starting an innovative new approach to being out there, and making some money for their efforts.  A plan to send robots and people into space, for the sole purpose of seeing what was possible, concerning meteorites and recovering precious resources from their surface. 

And this is when my unconscious mind took over.  And began to speak with Aboriginal Elders.  Often done in dream time, and if you tell your best friend, it will be said, “Senile.  Losing his Mind.”  And this is so, 20 years ago, when NASA and the Russians controlled the skies.  But not now.  Evolutionary process.  And there are people with money, that take the business of meteorites and mining in space seriously.  And so I was sitting in my chair, watching the sun going down, when suddenly.

Suddenly out of nowhere, I saw movement.  A speeding object, passes.  I hear the sonic boom, or something loud.  “Kulu Daddy.”  And that’s how this blog begins.

Small children and they speak, or scream or make a sound.  Often, I have no idea what they are saying, nor what they are asking for.  Not sure if they need something, or if they are including me, for some unknown reason, I clearly do not fathom.  So I hear it.  “Kulu Daddy.”  And the first thing that comes to me, is: “Cool Aid.  Daddy”  Suggesting they are thirsty and want something to drink. 

But like I said, “half the time I have no idea.  What is.”  But this is true with adults also.  And so it becomes a grand experiment.  Figuring Out.  What they need or want, and discovering what its all about.  Kulu Daddy.

So they bring me out of my dream.  Wasn’t sure how it happened.  Sun was going down.  Was in dream-time.  Sitting in my chair.  And this is what I remember.  They didn’t want cool aid, which is a sugar-sweet drink from the 50’s in America.  Now people drink water, and coke and starbucks coffee, world-wide.  Not cool aid.  But a thought from a lost generation and time.  So my mind is forced to figure it out. 

And when you are just waking to the possibility that this is real, coming out of dream time or a nap, it takes on a life of its own.

Last I remember I was talking to the Aboriginal Elders.  No children involved.  Was a conversation about how life was brought to earth by a meteorite called KULU.  And for now, all I can do is leave you with my first impression.  Space Company in Bellevue, Washington.  Going out into space.  Mining meteorites.  Crazy idea, before man first went to the moon, and then Russians and Americans in a Space Station, living side by side in cramped quarters. 

And so I am thinking, for money, people will do most anything.  And in Luritja traditions, meteorites were used as tools of punishment or signs of approval.  And that is when, I stopped writing this blog.  Wanted to know more.  But when small children are talking to you, and you don’t understand a word of what they are saying, Is time to drop what you are doing and give full attention to the utterance, “Kulu, Daddy.”

To keep from repeating the dream and the conversation, I will provide a link.  Might help to bring you into this topic.  Much like when the children, or some flash of energy appeared in front of me, saying:  “Kulu, Daddy.”

aboriginalastronomy.blogspot.com/2011/04/meteors-meteorites-and-cosmology-in.html