Who, Where, Why...

Saturday Centus #64. Just when I was in the mood to write the perfect vignette story, hoping that somehow Jenny was going 'out of the box' and maybe allow us 200 words...good luck! This week our prompt is nearly as long as our word restraint of 15. This suggests that 1) Jenny is not a mind reader...at least not mine, and 2) that our teacher is in charge...'do or die'...speaking of death, and not that I care to ponder its morbidity, our prompt goes something like this..."before I die I want to..." Suffice it that a mere 15 words would not begin to cover this subject. I am ok with that inasmuch as I believe I have lived many lives before this one, so, perhaps what I did not get to in this one, just maybe I covered before or will get to later. Point is, it seems, is that doing this or that, going here and there, having such and such is not important...the importance in it all may lie in the emotions...the clarity of that moment, those moments when we have that feeling, those feelings that are beyond words, beyond description...the moment which fuses past, present, future, and the whole of the universe into a precise, unexplainable 'entity...' I have tried to capture such a moment with this photograph. Now I will give a go and try to explain in what are obviously too few words, my desire.

before I die I want to...

know the truth...

who we are...

where did we come from...

why we are here...

Peace and blessings

jc

Short and to the Point

Saturday Centus...and 25 words...oh my...5, 25, 50, 100...I can do this, I can do anything. I may not be getting any younger, but I am getting better...although my creative vision often trumps my abilities to put vision to paper. Somehow though, as usually happens, the vision came to me in an instant...question is can I translate the feel of the moment in so few words? Perhaps with a little ESP working, some of you might feel it, see it, wrap your heads around it...I hope so.

"Anything else hon?"

"No, thanks."

She returned with the check...and an unexpected note...

I'm off at 11...meet me out front...

What the heck, I'm not getting any younger...

Home...Not This Time

Some years had passed since I had left home. I had wanted to visit many times, it was just that...you know...my parents and I had not truly 'gotten along'. I left home under less than desirable circumstances. Back then it felt more like an 'escape' than a simple departure. Over the years I realized that you cannot run away from your past, and cultivated the hope that 'time heals everything'.

I left the interstate, deciding to drive the rest of the way through the countryside and small towns along Rt. 66. The miles ticked away as I passed through familiar places...Venita, White Oak, Bushyhead...the small towns forever etched in my childhood memories...all unchanged. Just past Bushyhead, something however did change. The landscape was unfamiliar. Had the distraction of childhood memories caused me to take a wrong turn? I could see a road sign in the distance. As I got closer I could read it, and the sign read...Hwy. 666...

Lost In Translation

What if Francis Scott Key, a young, aspiring, 34 year old lawyer and amateur poet, had used his cell phone to text his poem, Defence of Ft. McHenry...a poem inspired by the view of a large, 30' x 42' American flag, made by Mary Young Pickersgill and her 13 year old daughter Caroline, and for that moment flying over Ft. McHenry...texting it to his dear wife Mary, as she huddled in their home with their 11 children during the war of 1812?

Well, it would have read something like this..."OsA cn UC by d dawn's erly lyt...OsA dz dat (*) spangled banner yet ~~~, over d l& of d fre n d hom of d brave"...

and...what if he had not be feeling poetically inclined? Well, he might have texted her saying..."Mary cn UC d big (_!_) flag @ d fort?" And if he had done that, then what would folks incorrectly mumble the lyrics to at ball games?

Thank you for bearing with me today and translating my silly attempt at interpreting our Saturday Centus prompt, "O! say can you see". Please check out what will certainly be an interesting and thoughtful collection of writings, poems and such at Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus.

World Inside a Grain of Sand

Why is it so hard to be as good as I want to be? I seek a certain perfection...not perfection as we might think. I am not a perfect success. I am not a perfect writer, poet, artist. I was not perfect in my careers. I am not a perfect husband or father, although those attributes would be worth the challenge I think. I have not perfectly challenged and beaten back the fears and anxieties of life, although I have spent some thought and time seeking that. The perfection I seek is more one of attitude and disposition. I want to achieve perfection in understanding, compassion, empathy, love, forgiveness. On the surface it may seem that these attributes are simple, free, instantly accessible. We do not have to cross an ocean to find them. We do not have to climb tall mountains seeking them. We do not have to hone our skills for years to know them...or do we? Can an eternity of compassion be found in a moment? Could all the love of the cosmos be contained in a small box just in front of me, within reach, if I could only, truly open my 'eyes' and see it? Could love, compassion and all that I seek be contained in that grain of sand in my pocket?

Why is it hard to be as good as I want to be? Perhaps I am where I am meant to be...need to be...

A Short Note To Say...

Men in the trenches

of that big foreign war

left loved ones behind

as they walked out the door.

"Dear John", the many

thousands of letters would read,

'I have found someone else

who'll better fill my need'.

Often no details were given,

more often a short note...

"Dear John, love you, goodbye",

and that's all she wrote.

Yes, its Saturday, and not just any Saturday. It is Saturday Centus, #60 celebration!! Woo-hoo!! Whoopee!!Can't believe we've made it this far through the insanity. Jenny, instead of giving me a prompt that would lend laughter to this joyous occasion, has sent me in a different and predictable direction with her "Dear John". I do hope that some of you will be able to take it in a different direction...something contrary to broken lives, broken hearts. Maybe its just me...that I am perpetually inclined to write about the sad things in life...a troubled romantic. That being said, I can't wait to read what you have written, in 60 words or less. Peace...

Domi Gutu (A Short Story)

Another Saturday, another Centus, another opportunity to explore this universe in my cranium...to see if I can match thought to word, drawing inspiration from a prompt...much to my surprise, my own prompt, "Within the Stone". I am compelled to share with you its origin. Within the Stone is the name of a coffee table book of photographs...closeup photos of the polished surfaces of rocks...taken by Bill Atkinson. It is a remarkable book that combines free association, literary pieces from seven guest writers with some 70 photographs. As stated on the inside of the dust jacket..." Atkinson opens a vault beneath our feet, revealing to our astonished eyes the tumult of color, form, and desire hidden Within the Stone."

From early childhood to present, I have been a lover of rocks, stones, geology...and photography. With this book, Mr. Atkinson is speaking to my passions. I was once told I had spent a past life as an Egyptian stone mason, working on the pyramids. When I heard this it all made sense to me...

Help, I'm a Rock

Help, I'm a Rock

Help, I'm a Rock

- Frank Zappa

Domi Gutu (A Short Story)

Sun shining hot

repressive, voracious

sucking energy

my lifeblood from me...

Circumstance of fate

tore me from my village

my family,

dropping me in

this hell.

Grubby, bloody hands

scooping rock, mud, water

into round, screened pan.

Within the stone

lies my misery,

and redemption.

Amidst these hot depths

of terraced, muddy walls,

I hear the voices...

my wife, my children

calling...

Tamba, we love you

Tamba, come home...

"I ti der bepi okuru o solo" ( I shall come, God willing)