time is on our side :
whose time; whose side
Time glides by the golden sliver rule
of fine Swiss workmanship;
time of rose gold and steel.
Time of timeless which is precise.
time to replace the twelve gold tips
which no longer spark together ?
time to dare the chrome gearbox to mesh
and shift moods in time ?
detailing will groom the outer shell
leaving the inner mechanism still begrimed;
a false presentation
of a stuttering interior
no time to grieve over time lost
nor time to lose the time -
the time out that is necessary
to implement repair.
the time has come
to claim as one’s own Time;
human timing cannot be tweaked
by a trip to Geneva or Modena.
Grief is sending out oily tentacles :
the Time is Now.
"All of my life I have been so concerned with living an extraordinary life," says Jamie Bradley, who at age 25 quit her job to travel around the world alone for a year only to find herself overwhelmed by the immensity of her expectation. Jamie tried staying in varied accommodations, but found herself too alone and dissatisfied with having to find her way to different venues of interest each day. "I was isolating from the Hostel culture, but I was tired of having the same conversations over and over about where I was from, what places we travel to, and us all secretly competing with one another about who is the more worldly and adventurous," she writes. [Oh, my. I can relate to this, having myself taken off to Australia for three weeks on my own. One of my more amusing, bite-my-tongue conversations was with a woman in a group with whom I was going to ride camels. She was "hosteling" around the world and said she had to do it before she "was 65 and too old." I did not tell her my age. Very thought-provoking, that. But back to Jamie...]
One gets the feeling that if Jamie had relaxed a bit from the get-go and took down time as a part of travel, things might have been better. There is nothing wrong with keeping your journal or relaxing with a good read whilst visiting a new destination country. Certainly nothing to cause worry if one is spending an entire year in travel. One does not really need to "do" an event worthy of a novel or an awesome Instagram every hour. But then again, remember that Jamie had always concentrated on living an extraordinary life and was not prepared to cut herself any slack now. My, my, what is wrong with this picture? What kind of invented pressure is it that makes a wish for travel and adventure into a hamster wheel of competition and longing? Actually, this pressure is around us all the time. Read all about the "Purposeful Travel Hub" - Are you "purposeful" and/or "mindful" in your travel or do you bumble purposelessly and mindlessly around, enjoying stumbling on whatever moved you today? Trust me, your answer is of greatest concern and could contribute to a designation of your value. And you do want to be highly valued, no? Yes! And furthermore! Don't we want to build a life around important, curious and purpose-driven content? Sorry if I gasp at the irony of it all, but if Jamie had been less concerned about how purposeful her trip was meant to be in her own view, she might have had a better time and/or certainly felt less stressed and shamed by her attempt. Waitaminute! Let's not go there! It might lead to the disturbing questions of "what is meaningful," to whom, and "whose Purpose is most Purposeful." Or more confusing, who is defining your adventure? Social Media? Your Mommy? You? One man's adventure may be another's idea of Boring. To quote from my Australian Journal, "Some would evaluate this trip and see that I have not done all that was scheduled. I must learn I am not them."
No one could fault Jamie for being overwhelmed or not continuing her entire year as planned; she writes that she is overall pleased and is happy she began the endeavor. This traveler, for one, congratulates her on her voyage of self-discovery and on opening the door to thoughtful discussion - be it ever so meaningful.
My Father said my first word[s] was
I have no reason to doubt this since that pretty much describes how it went.
Life, that is.
My Father also liked to drive and that trait was inherited through some twisted DNA quirk.
It was no surprise to anyone but me that on my receipt of a driving permit many boyfriends appeared, eager to take me driving in one of the new Chevrolet Impala V-8 Convertibles that were the ride of choice before The Father discovered BMW.
Please do not blame the PhDilettante; it is all in the genes...
Perhaps something is gained in translation, but it seems Chinese always has a delicious meaning in English: "Juanqinzhai," one of the rooms of a domain inside the Forbidden City, is also known as the "Studio of Exhaustion from Diligent Service." Chinese/English-speaking readers, you know all about this.
The Japanese however, not to be outdone, contribute the name of the oarfish "Ryugu no tsukai," or the "Messenger from the Sea God's Palace," to the fun translation game. (And one must certainly see what a 13-foot oar fish looks like to appreciate just how apt is the name.) We can understand how Ariana Grande ended up with a tattoo reading "small finger barbecue"....kanji is not for the unenlightened.
When The President [or POTUS, as some prefer] speaks, we listen, yes?
Let us not approach Mr. Trump's Rose Garden speech declaring a National Emergency -
it can wait a bit - but rather another statement he made the other day.
President Trump said, “I want to wish our new
attorney general great luck and speed. Enjoy your life.”
What does this mean? Help me here, people. "Paranoia runs deep," but this does
seem like a cryptic comment rather than a cheerful welcome to Mr. President's
choice in a crucial role in his administration.
Oh well. Perhaps the whole thingamabob that has been going down in D.C. has fried the
brain cells and all this means nothing at all. But one does wonder.
"...[M]uch of what was out there was just dishonest -
misleading even - and just not particularly helpful."
Comment by the husband of the author of Unwinding the Miracle, which was published
after her death.
"I was left feeling inadequate, like:
'Oh my God. These people view [cancer] as a challenge.
As an opportunity.' They were written almost as though you had just been given
a goal, like losing ten pounds."
So true, so poignant. It occurs
to the PhD. that the current trend to view
death as another adventure has been sucked into the vortex of "just do it," and rah-rah
that we see hyped by the Influencers. Soon I envision festive "death caps" and "cancer shrugs"
with encouraging logos appearing in the Community Marketplace if not in the Communal Mind.
Think on it.
...believe in Something Grand.
Sunrise - Albuquerque, New Mexico, Huning Historic District.
El Buen Pastor by Texas artist Luis Jimenez appears like a Russian ikon or a stained glass window design at first viewing. But look again: the goats seem to sense or even be evil; why does the halo effect look more like a target sight; the bushes in the background are, on closer view, armed and in camo.
This very serene interpretation of a modern-day Good Shepard is protest art at its best. Esequiel Hernandez, the caption tells us, was murdered by assassins just doing their job, and of course, he fit the description of a drug smuggler, "so they said." Had to share this sly and damning commentary on The Wall between Mexico and our Southwestern States.
It is a beautiful picture, no?
Unashamedly lifted from S.F. Gate, a part of the San Francisco Chronicle (or it used to be).
California, Oregon, Colorado, Idaho, Arizona, Utah :: almost all the Western States of the U.S. of A. are ablaze.
If you have never been IN an ongoing wild fire, this is exactly what it is like :: awe-full, light, dark, cloudy, dusty, acrid, dramatic, affecting all the senses. May you all be saved from this experience, and may all the folk who are experiencing it now be in the hands of Spirit.
IF this were an actual event,
you would not be reading this trash -
You would be out doing REAL STUFF instead of wasting your 15 minutes of earth time
or your 15 years of cosmic time.
Shock recall :: I remember mentally noting...
... in passing that so many of the Providers wore glasses. It took four (4) days for me to sort out that I had signed a form allowing Auxiliary Data use through ‘Glass.’ That was why I was being asked questions seemingly out of context and/or out-of-the-blue, and became confused. Or more confused than I already was. My reactions to some of these questions was also out of context and perhaps at that moment both I and the Provider thought I had dementia. I know I did. Either dementia or one of the psychoses that I am told run in the family.
It is only now that I recognize the price of Going Fearless. I stayed in one place too long, perhaps. I was known for who I was and it was okay. I am not known in Albuquerque, it is the time of advancing algorithms and I do not fit binary processes. No one does. No wonder many feel alienated. We are almost dealing with aliens (as in “another world,” not immigrants). Wrong, kiddo :: you signed Informed Consent when you were not well that you would allow these people to mess with you based on data whose source you may or may not know.
In the instant case, the data was previously provided by me on a form at another Provider’s office. The Urgent Care Provider was seeing it through her Glasses.
[When this was written, I had forgotten that I had started a piece on electronic dossier compilation. Very amusing.]
The robots are here.
It is indeed the march of the algorithms.
But they are not the mechanical Alexa's and Siri's you might expect.
They are your Health Care Providers and perhaps others with whom you interact and do not require you to sign informed consent documents.
We will address the concept of “Providers” at another time :: now it is about that form I signed at Urgent Care (another concept that may be new to some) that asked consent to a Provider using Google-type glass[es] on which they see data you cannot while treating/providing for you.
Funny that in this era where information, including medical condition information, is offered in video “for those who do not like to read,” that the long, tedious Informed Consent documents are used at all. Why would these often confusing documents be used in Urgent Care, of all places, for individuals who are in pain or distress to begin with and are not too clear on what is going on with their own bodies much less much interested at the moment in what the forms say??
….to be continued.
Well, I was warned,
er, told, that on Saturday Nights
The Boys Like to Drive Cars.
I thought that what was meant was on-street drag racing or showboating or whatever … a la Oakland. http://www.racesandia.com/
First night of the Season, and Beer is “finally” allowed at the Raceway.
The cats and I were electrified and practically hiding under the bed. Actually, I went In the bed thinking to avoid the noise.
And fireworks. Oh, I said that. We [the cats and I] thought it must be a new Holiday.
No, we get to enjoy this every Saturday for who-knows-how-long.
California Girl speaking.
It is NOT supposed to rain in the Spring or Summer or any time except Winter.
Open windows let in floods of water whilst the PhD was trying to get a good pic of the whole mess.
Antibiotics have changed from the Big Needle in the Butt of your grandparents' days. After a generation or two folks became so used to the penicillin derivatives that Science upped the ante to fast-acting new replacements.
All very 'well and good' were it not for the fact that some of these medications can cause side effects listed in 4 or five pages of warnings, not necessarily for every patient, but enough for alerts that many body systems may show reactions even after the initial infection is 'cured' - years after.
Not intending to scare anyone off docs, but watch what you choose as a remedy next time you are feeling poorly.