A New World

It’s a new world. I have evidence.

I wanted to send you a picture, but alas when I went back with my camera the evidence had vanished.

Monday as DD and I drove into town we saw sitting on a bus stop bench a full outfit of clothing with no one in them. There was a jacket sitting arm up like Donald O’Connor’s dancing cloth doll in Singing in the Rain. (He animated it.) Beneath the jacket a pair of pants lies uninhabited. A pair of shoes was planted firmly on the ground, pants covering their tops as though a person had recently inhabited them. We laughed. “The rapture happened,” DD said.

Saturday while Daughter Darling, Baby Darling, and I were splashing around in The Plunge in San Diego followed by a quick trip through Sea World, we came home to Husband Dear telling us the world had ended.

“Oh good,” I said, “It’s a new world.”

What if it is?

With a new world DD and I decided we had not thanked Hawaii sufficiently for its gift to us. We were so immersed in the doingness of house renovations, of deciding we wanted to leave the island, of trying to figure out what we were feeling, how much was coming from our own needs, and how much was energy coming from the island that we couldn’t get the hit when it ended. The house sold after 5 months. How lucky we were. We were lucky that someone came in with cash, no waiting for 4 months to get a loan as we did. We were grateful, but had we thanked her (Hawaii) sufficiently?

So DD and I went to the beach again—an earlier trip was to release the Hawaiian experience, (See blog post “Counting Pelicans”), this time we went to thank the Big Island for her gift. I thought of Eckhart Tolle again. In his book, A New World, oh fascinating, I just looked up the title of his book, had forgotten it, and I see we’re talking about the same thing—A New World, in title anyway. Tolle states how spiritual we are has nothing to do with what we believe, but it has everything to do with our state of consciousness.
By state of consciousness I mean to look not so much to what we think, but to where we place our awareness.
It is so tempting to see what is wrong with the world, with life, with anything instead of seeing what is right with it.

A new world?

Sounds like a plan.

Remembering Hawaii:  I stumbled upon this picture of our road in Hawaii--moving from darkness into light.

"It is a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it."

--W. Somerset Maugham

Quote found in It's Hard To Stay on a Horse While You're Unconscious by Joyce Davis

Still Wishing on White Horses

There exists at the edge of the world a land that time forgot a place where dreams play and fantasies frolic. This place could be called delusion. Some call it Shangri-La.

I call it imagination.

I wandered the bookstore yesterday looking for such a place. Isn't this a place where dreams are realized?

I tend not to go through the new book arrivals, don’t know why, I just go through the stacks waiting for a book to jump out at me—I’ve had astounding luck so far, recent reads: The Year of the Hare (Paasilinna), How to Bake a Happy Life (O’Neal) Loved it! Older protagonist, heroine’s point of view, a troubled teenager’s point of view, a grandmother’s, a newly found old flame, a new romance, a dream come true, a dog. It is all mixed up with bread recipes that almost made me run to the kitchen, and pull out pans and flour. So far I’ve resisted that temptation. The Lost Recipe for Happiness (O’Neal), Home to Woefield ( Judy), Men and Dogs (Crouch), I’m Over all That (MacLaine), Going Bovine (Bray). The Bushman Way of Tracking God (Keeney).

A question: Why is it that almost every book has “New York Times Bestseller,” printed into its cover? And, do bookstores only stock bestsellers? And how does one get on a best seller list if bookstores do not stock them until they are? Makes my brain ache.

My hand just doesn’t work anymore to open a book that tells me upfront that it will break my heart, that it is bittersweet, that family tragedy propels the protagonist forward. Oh, I know about conflict—“Without conflict you have no story.” I know a plot line is “Chase hero up tree. Throw rocks at hero. Get hero out of tree.” Still I want to feel good when the book is over, and although I have read quite a few Dean Koontz, and admire him, I’ve over-read ways to kill a person.

And then walking out with a book entitled Three Junes—although it doesn’t seem to be the one I thought I was getting--I think my friend June was on my mind, anyway, walking out of the bookstore I pick up Dick Van Dyke’s My Lucky Life In and Out of Show Business, and read that his life wasn’t always easy, broke at times, early show business struggles, wife miscarries twins, but he moves through life with flair such as he had when we saw him dancing on the rooftops in Mary Poppins to the tune of “Step in Time,” with the chimney sweeps.”

How cool it that?!

P.S. Roses cut all within 10 feet of our front door.
Another, How cool is that?

Genie in a Pickle

Feeling hot, lethargic, about to faint? Eat a pickle.

Not just any pickle. It has to be one of those 6 inch long, salty, salty, salty, dill pickles you just plucked from an iced pickle barrel. One at Disneyland gave both DD and I the power to tackle the park, and its 100 degree temperature with vigor. Probably it is the salt, might be electrolytes, maybe the vinegar, or even the curative powers of the cucumber, whatever, I now believe in pickle power.

This was the second time a genie in a pickle saved me, so I think there is something to my hypothesis. (On top of it, that whole cucumber pickle reminded me of ones my Grandmother used to make.)

Okay, yes we were at Disneyland again—I told DD and Baby D that we would go the day after I got the check in my hands for the Hawaii House sale. That was Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday we rode every train we could find at Disneyland—Baby D is into trains.

Sold houses, and Disneyland, and pickles are all mixed up into a happy dance. The Hawaii house sold, yea, yea, yea. This is the first time in over 40 years that we have not been home owners. It’s okay. I think I have gypsy blood in me anyway.

The nicest people inquired about the house from a site called HorseClicks. On that site you can list houses, horses, tack, trailers for free. Nobody from that ad bought the house but they all seemed like people I would love to have for friends. Many people want to leave the cold and move to paradise. You who have read my blog over the past couple of years know it was an adjustment.

Why would anyone want to leave paradise?

For another paradise.

Onward, upward and ahead from Joyce