Sunday, July 03, 2005
Sunday July 3, 2005 - Year 3, Day 105 - windex please
+12C, clear, steady breeze
. . .
Carla joined me again as we followed Gusta along a familiar path with many dog sniffing opportunities this morning
. . .
we had lunch with my dad yesterday & took Gusta to the off-leash area [she’s not ready yet !!] & hung out; we went to Wayne’s for bagels & Heartland Café for coffee & Gusta the chick magnet sniffed many women & children; she will leave soon to visit her maternal grandmother & then journey home to Edmonton – her visit brief, her importance in my life so much greater than she could imagine, until one day she is in her 50’s & sees her best work walking around in their 20’s
. . .
this day’s blank page invites me, teases me, toys with me
. . .
it demands I spill my feelings & my failings, paint my dreams & my nightmares
. . .
it is no better a blank page each day – it is just a blank page; always a page, always blank
. . .
today it begs a short simple clear picture of who I am, what kind of person I am to know, what kind of ‘new adventure’ I might be in someone’s life, what kind of servant I might be to a new client, what kind of dad I am to my children, what kind of son I am
. . .
I shine & glow a little each day with new puppy relish & enthusiasm – but mostly I reflect to others ideas & queries I decide are worthy of us that day; often I fall short, often not
. . .
to find resonance, find a home, find familiarity – or to find critique & counterpoint
. . .
some times to find disdain & raw pain & sometimes just plain raw
. . .
each day on this page I prove we are not alone, we are not lonely, we are not unique, we are all spokes of this wheel; each yearning for the connection with someone who has something special in common
. . .
not the mundane, the easy, the overdone
. . .
but to reveal that bizarre or embarrassing thought we keep secretly hidden from view – the magic when someone says ‘me too’
. . .
the syrupy feeling we have but would never tell – till we read someone admitting, yearning to let that one out
. . .
this blank page commands a better description of the human condition than it has seen; often falling short, often provoking response that would dazzle any literary critic
. . .
many times this page says ‘again, half as long’; this page says ‘don’t pander, don’t ponder’; this page says spill if out when you are in pain, spill it freely when you are joyful; spill it out when you are ambivalent as you would when your belly aches for clear words
. . .
find clear thoughts as window into yourself
. . .
a window
. . .
that’s it
. . .
a window
. . .
this page is a window – me on one side – you on the other, every day
. . .
every day
. . .
some days that window is crystal clear, some days smudged
. . .
some days we wipe it together – as if our hands touch through the glass
. . .
Mark
342,256
Note to readers: responses invited – just scroll down to fill in your comments
. . .
Carla joined me again as we followed Gusta along a familiar path with many dog sniffing opportunities this morning
. . .
we had lunch with my dad yesterday & took Gusta to the off-leash area [she’s not ready yet !!] & hung out; we went to Wayne’s for bagels & Heartland Café for coffee & Gusta the chick magnet sniffed many women & children; she will leave soon to visit her maternal grandmother & then journey home to Edmonton – her visit brief, her importance in my life so much greater than she could imagine, until one day she is in her 50’s & sees her best work walking around in their 20’s
. . .
this day’s blank page invites me, teases me, toys with me
. . .
it demands I spill my feelings & my failings, paint my dreams & my nightmares
. . .
it is no better a blank page each day – it is just a blank page; always a page, always blank
. . .
today it begs a short simple clear picture of who I am, what kind of person I am to know, what kind of ‘new adventure’ I might be in someone’s life, what kind of servant I might be to a new client, what kind of dad I am to my children, what kind of son I am
. . .
I shine & glow a little each day with new puppy relish & enthusiasm – but mostly I reflect to others ideas & queries I decide are worthy of us that day; often I fall short, often not
. . .
to find resonance, find a home, find familiarity – or to find critique & counterpoint
. . .
some times to find disdain & raw pain & sometimes just plain raw
. . .
each day on this page I prove we are not alone, we are not lonely, we are not unique, we are all spokes of this wheel; each yearning for the connection with someone who has something special in common
. . .
not the mundane, the easy, the overdone
. . .
but to reveal that bizarre or embarrassing thought we keep secretly hidden from view – the magic when someone says ‘me too’
. . .
the syrupy feeling we have but would never tell – till we read someone admitting, yearning to let that one out
. . .
this blank page commands a better description of the human condition than it has seen; often falling short, often provoking response that would dazzle any literary critic
. . .
many times this page says ‘again, half as long’; this page says ‘don’t pander, don’t ponder’; this page says spill if out when you are in pain, spill it freely when you are joyful; spill it out when you are ambivalent as you would when your belly aches for clear words
. . .
find clear thoughts as window into yourself
. . .
a window
. . .
that’s it
. . .
a window
. . .
this page is a window – me on one side – you on the other, every day
. . .
every day
. . .
some days that window is crystal clear, some days smudged
. . .
some days we wipe it together – as if our hands touch through the glass
. . .
Mark
342,256
Note to readers: responses invited – just scroll down to fill in your comments
