Regrets?
Yes.
Sometimes a mess.
Yes.
Some bad bets.
Yes.
Some bad habits.
Yes.
And then…
“Please forgive me.
I forgive you.
I love you.
I surely do.”
Mean it?
Yes.
Do it?
Yes.
Me, too.
Yes.

a north wind blew hard;
waves from the south kept crashing;
i stood in between.

We have conveniences
upon conveniences,
smart appliances

after smart appliances,
all gauged to make
money for the corpor-

ations not so much
the inventors who
work for the corporat-

ions and all designed
to make our life easier
to manage, but for all

the advances, there
are all the risks to
our identity (with

smart this and smart
that and social media),
so privacy is now a

thing of the past
(Darling, you know the
smart T.V. is watching

us.) and then there is
the matter of the resist-
ance of human nature

to embrace the most
up-to-date, ultra-mod-
ern, still strange, yet

truly interesting notions
to be tested called peace,
justice, mercy and the

strangest of all — un-
conditional, self-sac-
rificial, agape love.

Beautiful white sand,
dead Portuguese Men O’ War,
poison on the beach.

Of course, there are dangers
out there. Some say nature
doesn’t care about you and,
in fact, is hostile toward
you, like it is the nature of
the alligator…and it is
the nature of the scorpion…
and it is the nature of
the rattlesnake…but
those natures are survival
instincts and not about
you. If we are wise and
keep our distance, those
who scare us will leave us
alone because we are
no longer the next meal
or the real danger and
speaking of the real
danger, it is the nature
of the human….

At one time in his life, he thought
he would spend the rest of his
life wandering along the shore

of the Gulf of Mexico and then
life happened. Along the way,
he fell in love with the forests

of Kentucky and Michigan, the
smell of the evergreens and the
flowering deciduous, the rolling

hills, the crunching sands along
the shore of the Big Lake, the

Flat Irons and the snow caps
and the fourteen-thousand footers
and the bronze beauty — the desert

of the Southwest, the greens,
blues, yellows, the spring flowers,
the hoarfrost that sings “Catch

Me If You Can”; then he found
himself jogging along the shore
of the Gulf and he knew he

was in love with the waves
and the sand and the trees
and the shrubs and the lakes

and the rivers and the mountains
and desert and the animals who
were here first and he inhales

it and he knows he’s a part of
it, and it’s a part of him and
he is better for it.

I have exhausted myself writing about the absurdities, inanities, and illegalities of our present Federal Administration, Congress and the President in particular (and I used a capital P out of respect for the office and not the present occupant).

And I know I basically am talking to myself — a knowledge based on two realities: 1. external: there aren’t many out there who read my posts, and 2. internal: a growing realization that the focus of my writings is becoming way too narrow and the negativity is becoming corrosive on me.

My writings about the misadventures of the government have been in part prophetic (calling it for what it is from my perspective) and therapeutic (naming the issues, seeking clarity, finding hope, getting a bigger perspective, etc.).

And so, after this post and the poem below, I am taking a break from all things “You Know Who” —- for as long as I can stand it.

Do You Ever Wonder?

Do you ever wonder
if the Veep’s truly,
authentically, con-
servative, evangel-
ical, Jesus loving,
religious wife, whom
we have heard doesn’t
truck the Occupant,
slaps the Veep upside
the head every day
before he leaves for
work for his cringing,
docile, fawning, ob-
sequious, servile sub-
missiveness to the
Occupant, and if so
maybe, we can only
hope and, maybe,
one day, if it happens,
it will pay off. What
do you think, Veep?
Silence…as usual
and then he gathers
his phony-baloney
made for the radio
stentorian voice
to sound profound
and everyone rushes
out of the room.

Interesting article. Science is now verifying what we already know:

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/just-being-outside-can-improve-your-psychological-health-and-maybe-your-physical-health-too?utm_source=pocket-newtab.

Let’s go for a jog/hike in the great out-of-doors.
Let’s sit by the sea.
Let’s take the dog for a walk.
Let’s do what’s good for the dog, you and me.

One day it crashes —
rising and falling loudly.
Next day just silence.

The guy may be in a cult;
but he despises cultism.
He thinks he may be an
anti-Occupant cultist. He’s

not into cults. He has an
aversion to cults. Cults
give him the willies. Cult-
ism means no brains, no

choices, turning your life,
your spirit, your being,
your soul over, lock, stock
and barrel, to another

human being and chances
are a not very nice, moral,
ethical, just or compassionate,
one. And all we hear about

these days is the cult that
follows the Occupant. What’s
with that? Some, like the
sixty-three million including

crazy, white, evangelicals
who think that God appoint-
ed him to usher in the end-
times and the return of Jesus,

to some in the administration
who, in spite of Ivy League
degrees, believe the same
crazy thing, but there are

elected officials who don’t
love him let alone like him
but fear him because he
holds their future employ-

ment in his hands and they
will do what he wants to
save their jobs and, in the
mean time, we get closer

and closer to Dante’s In-
ferno.