Carpark contentment

In this moment of quiet contentment whilst walking the upper carpark at work I realise I am in the most calm condition of my life.

I have achieved the truest state of the monkhood I sought long ago.

At almost 3:30 a.m., when the freeway traffic is at a minimum, sounding like ocean waves just over a sand dune, the cicadas and crickets dominate.

My thought set requires no external validation, the same every year at this time.

I know a few friends whom I will recognise on social media for their positive influence on me.

Other than that, my conscious self remains at rest.

Ahhh..

Summertime!

Paper wasps and horse flies

Always the hopeful romantic

I know I’ll see you soon,

But never soon enough;

I’ll listen to your voice,

Although my hearing interferes with hearing your words;

I’ll wish away the hours and days

Pining for another quiet moment alone with you.

Always hopeful,

Sitting here in the summer heat,

Perspiration trickling down my spine,

Well past my daylight sleep time,

These words a placemark holding our thoughts,

Anticipation of being with you again

Holding my eyes open briefly

As I walk through mental schedules,

Ensuring personal time with you 

Keeps the big picture taking shape

As mentors step away

To play with motorboats dressed in summer attire.

The muggy atmosphere envelopes me

Wishing I had some good ice right now

(You know, those little pieces of ice,

Not the big kind with sharp edges…).

Japanese garden bridge in the rain

A person on social media asked which the reader thought worse, emotional pain or physical pain?

Of course, they’re one in the same.

Emotions are not aether, miasma, or entities separate from the body.

Therefore, the question reworded: what type of physical pain do you least like to endure?

Sleep-derived tiredness is my least liked pain.

I don’t know what emotions are but I do know that personal relationship disconnectedness reduces my ability to fall asleeep quickly, same with misaligned body parts.

Sleepiness prevents fully living in the ever-changing moment, causes poor decision-making, affecting moments not yet lived.

What, then, my friend, is Love?

Love, like everything else, is physical, measurable, describable, with experimental results providing a method to create corrective actions.

Please ensure your scanned documents are streak-free and legible

In the backyard of our forested suburban lot, large rocks, boulders and outcroppings form shelves or layers of frozen time.

On one of those rocks, I slowly build an enclave, a getaway-from-it-all, a meditation garden, complete with writer’s cottage, treehouse and platform/deck for outdoor entertainment such as watching nature and dancing.

I have a public persona but I also value my privacy.

I consider myself a monk who practices the art of living in the midst of the joys and sorrows of modern society, despite his wishes to live alone on a mountaintop, knowing that his extroverted self provides more entertainment, insight and guidance to his species than his seclusion.

I debate extending permanent water pipes out to the cottage since the cottage, with a modular design, includes a conservatory in which plants will grow.

I definitely will extend permanent electrical power to the cottage, an extension cord currently serving temporary duty, powering rope lights in the treehouse.

This weekend I plan to complete clearing the forest floor and installing foundation footings and/or concrete piers for the first three modular units of the enclave — the conservatory (a greenhouse kit from Harbor Freight), writer’s cottage and workshop, the latter two using shed kits called “Stratford” from Heartlandind.com, linked in an L shape. 

The conservatory will have a drain hole in it to let water drain off of the waterproofed floor.

All three units will need reinforcement like screws instead of nails, more studs and more floor joists, the conservatory raised a foot higher via 2×12 foundation lumber pieces.

The deck will tie the enclave to the treehouse via a stairway to the treehouse that connects to the deck.

Current plans for now, as budget and new ideas allow!

Unlike other sauces that mask the taste of food

Lee talked with Bai for the first but not the last time in a long time. 

Knowing that talking with her opened old emotional wounds not only for himself but also for his wife, Karen, his friends Guin, Bai, Cajessi and Pierre.

Lee listened to Bai and sighed. 

Two years had passed since the breakup, since Lee had lost a tightknit group of friends who introduced him to the happiness of social dancing…

Lee looked at Bai and tried to keep smiling. 

The pain, mostly memory, was real again. 

Bai relived the hurt he’d heard in Guin’s voice and eyes hours earlier.

Two years had passed and the pain felt just as horrible as before, everyone pretending to be analytical adults when they were crying inside.

Lee’s intention to seek healing amongst the members of the former group did not happen instantly.

Since the scars, still tender, subject to outside poison and toxins, burned at the surface, two years served only to start a life of healing.

Two years did not give them enough time to build even a modest integrated platform of a bigger organisation with new as well as old members of the core group.

Lee sighed.

He loved without judgment.

He wanted to magically heal his friends, find some way for them to forgive and forget, as he had trained himself to dissociate temporary emotional responses from influence on future actions.

But he couldn’t. 

He, like them, was simply human.

And that was enough, sufficient to go forward with big goals for a bigger group.