Couch Surfing at 70

Overheard…. “And to say the gist of these things in the Blog post in language which says “Hello” and not “See ya,” understanding more (and more) that “Hello” and “Goodbye” are not two.” Maybe the dragons will whisper, “Not two,” off and on, into this ear which both hears and sees. As in, “We gotcha,…

I’m dun chasing folks.

I think today’s post is either going to be about income tax returns or Otis Redding. They both showed up in a timed writing (25:25) I completed a short while ago, one in which the first sentence was me thinking maybe a Blog post for today would show up, since at that time my mind…

On a morning when The Zombies’ “She’s Not There” doesn’t mean what you think it does. Or what I think it does. It’s just adding music to my day. Where the Pacific is whispering to me from over the bay, beyond the peninsula, down the big, big hill. And the Starbucks resident black kitty shows…

On a Monday log, in the heart-of-the-day sun, in a field of dead grass, by the woods, breeze blowing, I burst into tears while sitting in meditation. I’m becoming more real – like the Velveteen Rabbit.

Three times this Monday morning I heard the expression “Out of sight.” As in, “Far out. That’s totally out of sight, Noreen.” This is a phrase, a description, a statement which fell out of the ’60’s. Just like me. And one I have always cherished, all the more these days and decades as those three…

Now, closing out this week of guest speakers: “We should be guardians of each other’s solitude.” – Rilke

Where others are speaking for me: “How else could I have arrived, if I never left? I was just passing through.” – Milky Dent

Today’s guest speaker: “There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda…You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning…. And that, I…

Where others speak for me. “I think I’ll go outside for a while. And just smile.” The Rascals – “It’s a Beautiful Morning”

While walking earlier, I had the thought that I would invite others to speak for me here at Couch Surfing this week. This is from Joan Sutherland’s “Through Forests of Every Color” — “Koans deepen our realization, and they open the feeling life of our awakening. They draw out our courage. They clarify our insight.…

Someone at the Ocean Beach open mic last night, after I’d sat all the way back down, told me my poetry was like clear water. He said it was the highest compliment he could give. Clear water.

I’m thinking about the idea of a pilgrimage, which I read about a lot, mostly ancient cats heading off for 20 years or so. And while on this morning’s walk, wondering if a pilgrimage requires some degree of intention – Say, I’m going to drive back to my hometown and spend time re-living childhood as…

So, today’s post will be perfectly normal – you know me – and nothing esoteric or anything sounding too weird. There’s the right time for weird, and for no weird, though the blessed thing is I may start typing with the crossed-fingered vampire sign held up – weird shall not enter, Ha!, you need an…

Introduced myself to butterflies, flitting about the South Park streets, San Diego cool before the heat, next door barista so happy to greet. Caressing sidewalk’s flowers – my wayward way, so early in the day, why words can’t say the wonders which tag along or that Beach Boys song. Open, open, open, open mind –…

The late Carl Wilson asked his brother Brian, “Why do you think we (The Beach Boys) succeeded in such a big way?” Brain answered, “Well, I think the music celebrated the joy of life in a real simple way.” Third brother Dennis, in the opening line of his (and The Beach Boys) song “Forever” sang,…

When I think about things I don’t like, it’s less exciting than thinking about Terry Kath. And The Cowsills.

I was telling Massachusetts Bob, on our way back off the Sunset Cliffs Saturday, that I’ve been having little jolts of distinct familiarity, an “Oh, I’ve been on this path before”, the sense growing day by day I’ve forever been on this path. The one which took me to the Sunset Cliffs Saturday, to this…

Bang and bing, zowee, three kitties and their hairy eyeballs stepped out from the background of my morning walk, a Wednesday version, slightly tweaked with the turn up Fir Street, before Grape, the climbing slants of tar changing places. Also a make-shift kitty paradise on a never-before-seen front lawn (Fir), makes me think there could…

Maybe _____ _____ would want to re-up a long-ago almost romance with me and I move in and crash in Arlington (Mass), I’d do the Mystic River path and the big walk around the Mystic Lake, walking replacing long-ago runs, fall colors and everything. Point being, there’s not a clue what’s out there other than…

Wow. So opinionated. So early on a Monday. Geesh – the sun hasn’t had time to break through yet. Many thoughts, some feeling profound. And the crystal awareness that every time I read a piece (Koan story) again, something else opens, or something which had opened opens more. Goes from “Yeah” to “Wow.” Falls within…

I say to myself…. How about being happy anyplace? Like as marching orders. Like as suggestion out from the passing breeze. Why wait – something asks – to be happy?

My Massachusetts friend Bob is in town. I picked him up at his motel last night and drove over the peninsula and down into Ocean Beach, searching and searching for a parking space, eventually finding one just east of Ebers, Bob out of the car to guide me with my piss-poor parking skills. Then we…

A stranger passing me on the sidewalk said, “Do not dawdle.”

Saturday I went into the Pacific Ocean for the first time this season. I had my boogie board. There was a bullhorn warning, prior to walking in, that a serious rip current meant folks needed to stay in front of guard tower 4. The lifeguards then shooed a bunch of swimmers from where they were…

Today is the one-year anniversary of my first day as a full-time resident of California. Again. In 1977 I took my first airplane ride, Boston to LA, and began crashing on the floor of my best friend Bob Zimmerman’s shared cottage in Venice Beach. Soon after we got a place together in Santa Monica, and…

Fortunately, this Friday, I am not sitting in the bag of unconcern.

On this morning’s walk I passed a woman meandering in her small, fenced-in yard. She was wearing a bathrobe and glasses. Two dogs roamed there with her. As I passed she turned my way and gave me a half-smile, and I had the thought to ask her, “Do you have any Buddhas for sale?” But…

Call me the ‘Cracker Jack Kid’ today. A surprise in every box. Like this poem: just red The morning greets me –  a cardinal on the lawn.  He gives me a long look,  longing, perhaps,  for some brotherhood. Then,  for no reason beyond flying,  he lifts up,  up through the breeze.  “Ain’t nothing but red,” …

I’ve been impulsive. A couple of hours ago I stopped reading a story I was really, really liking, while drinking coffee, and grabbed my Morning Pages and began writing. Then, I rushed out the morning door, without going the bathroom again, without brushing my teeth, heading off on my early walk. Two Thursdays ago, sitting…

Before and on this morning’s walk, I’m thinking I see myself as a kid, while others, passing, see me as wrinkles and a cowlick. Which immediately brought to mind hearing Hendrix sing, “Scuse me while I kiss the sky.”

Calling all Fridays.

It isn’t that I can’t stray off the path. It’s that I’ve strayed onto it. Great flash! Great duh! Thursday haiku — “The day strays in. Blue sky, lavender flower. Vast intentions.”

Three distinct moments arrived on this morning’s walk. A beautiful cat walked out from a secret yard to greet me, as I passed on the street. I was allowed one head-to-butt rub, sure I was gentle and loving. The cat had markings which, I understood, were the markings of the entire line of her feline…

My pens have sprouted flowers.

I wrote my very first three notebook Morning Pages one day late May, early June, 2011. Having retired and been led to Julia Cameron’s “The Artist Way.” I have never missed a day writing three pages since, almost all early in the morning ahead of most of the day’s noise. There’ve been a few later…

There were moments – periods – of such wonder and grace. I was almost overcome with joy. It was just the day being the day. The morning greets me with a cardinal on the lawn. He gives me a long look, longing perhaps, for some brotherhood. And then, for no reason beyond flying, he lifts…

This journey and visit has surprised me. In an epiphany kind of way. The telling feels very personal, and not real interesting. Mostly I’m amazed at how far my heart and mind can travel when I open the door. Wednesday redux: Every single individual small white clover on the lawn waved at me Wednesday afternoon.…

Is the word of the day “suffering”? No. The word of the day is “precious”. This, that, the other thing – precious. My granddaughter’s light when she looks at me. Precious. This fun red-checkered blanket which wasn’t enough last night – Precious. This morning, the first cardinal I’ll see, if I’m lucky. Precious. And these…

I’ve had this very different experience of people today, traveling through airports and on planes. Fellow sentient beings. Like I see this young black guy, two seats over, he’s looking out the small window, and I know we could be friends. I know it. Earlier, I told his girlfriend/wife her braids were beautiful. Nobody hit…

This week’s Blog posts – Tuesday through Friday – will be verbatim notes from scribbles I was inclined to make while spending those days, last Tuesday through Friday, in Missouri. Un-edited, so sacred in the freshness of each day. Consider players in this journaling to be my son Cameron; my daughter-in-law Alison; and my grandkids…

My mind was less linear when writing my ‘Morning Pages’ earlier, always a joy, and I’d like to think the path on which I’ve commited to travel. I saw a hummingbird at the tippity top of the tallest tree. The Red Sox have sighed their way to a .500 record. My ex-wife walked with me…

There’s something about the microphone at Template on a Thursday night. It could be everything. Even just the microphone stand. Shimmering space. Is my shaking, shimmering? Exhaust every drop of sharing, kid, it’s nothing special. The decision to be all there (here) now is the journey. A physical voice, magnified. Oh my head, so lost…

In Buddhist writings there are many references to “the ten directions”. Here’s a line I read this morning – “This is the dharma of thusness that is the right thought of all the buddhas in the ten directions.” A reference to “non-thinking”. The ten directions are explained as north, south, east, west, halfway between north…

I’ve lingered long in the bathroom Reading poetry. Amazed there’s no bleeding. Amazed at just how empty I’ve become. There’s noise out on the sidewalk Where the sidewalk is  Not a scene, But simply seen. Where it’s likely A hummingbird shows up – Like always –  To flit and zip before My bulging eyes. Eyes…

I’ve had two complete wicked great posts for the Tuesday Blog form in their entirety in my head and then go giggling, running away – like a spring brook. One was about the uncanny prescience of the Kid (me) landing in Golden Hill when story after story and poem after poem and post after post…

Who does the honoring?

I got to read my poetry at the open mic in Ocean Beach last night, for the second Thursday in a row. And for the second Thursday in a row, my name was drawn from the hat next-to-last. I parked my car up the street at 5:30, strolled up to the microphone just after 9:30.…

Tuesday, on my morning walk, I saw four bunny rabbits and four Buddhas. If there’s some math equation or self-congratulations for all that Zen, you could fool me. I tried the math thing earlier – like third grade – and it’s eight plus one (ooh, spooky – He who sees). It’s more about simply being…

I had two epiphanies yesterday, and this morning I cannot remember the second one. Epiphanies, kind of a big deal. Right? It’s like if a mysterious stranger stops me on the sidewalk and says, “Here are the two ‘Secrets of Life’, the path to eternal joy. Always hold them close.” And the next afternoon I’m…

Back in the early and mid-eighties I hung around with this cat named Frenchie. He was a longshoreman from Charlestown (MA) with a chronically bad back. If you asked him for help he was just as likely to throw you the finger as give you five bucks. One of Frenchie’s favorite things to say was,…

While I was finishing my coffee this morning, trying to keep my attention on the experience of every swallow, including the last one, the memory of an advertising jingle slid into my mind – “Good to the very last drop.” I can’t remember the product – Nescafe? Folger’s? Maxwell House? Of course I could Google…

Stuff: Two of my paintings on the walls here in my room on B Street are “Cat in the Window” and “Blue Cow”. Both smaller oils, both faves. Earlier, drinking coffee, a thought popped into my mind – when out walking this morning, what if I see a cow in the window? I glance up,…

Just sort of sitting around today. Looking at my books – poetry and stories. Trying an open mic tonight in Ocean Beach, it’s a ‘lottery’ thing, at the mic or not. What’s shareable out of all these language goodies? Just in case.

Been having a powerful urge to be kind lately. Just kindness.