Anesthesia~ the foggy land between here and there...

For good reasons, which I don't care to explain in detail, I arrived at the hospital on Friday morning for an outpatient (gyn/girl stuff) surgical procedure.

General anesthesia was required because the procedure is rather painful, but luckily the recovery time is fairly quick. I was nervous. Very nervous. I don't scare easily, and while there was nothing to really be afraid of...it was personal and private- and strangers were going to see parts of me that I don't expose to the general public. "Sigh...I know, I know"- those Dr.'s and nurses see it all the time, but they don't see ME all the time. It wasn't an issue of pride, it was an issue of modesty. Well, mostly.

I suppose in this era of pantiless Paris Hiltons and wardrobe malfunctions my feelings might be a tad old fashioned, but they are my feelings (and body) after all. I also suppose that if I were shaped like Paris I might not mind being so exposed...but I'm not. Really NOT.

Anyway.

Once I was being prepped for my IV- I asked if someone could hook me up to a large Mojito, as this usually seems to help me with modesty issues :) I was informed that the mint leaves tend to clog up the plastic tubing in the IV line, at which point I said I would be happy to chew on the mint leaves if that would help. It was 8am and whether the OR crew was glad to have a patient with a sense of humor...or were concerned I was a lush- they promised the IV drugs would be better than a Mojito. They were true to their word.

.

I remember nothing between the moment they slipped the oxygen mask over my face and the moment I awoke in a good deal of pain, wondering if someone had left me alone with wild monkeys who poked me in the gut. Yeooowwwch!

The staff did all they could to manage the pain, but what couldn't be managed was my mind. I've had some interesting experiences with pain meds after surgery (hallucinations) but anesthesia seems to open some strange closet doors I have in my head. (no monsters though, because I have only ever know the friendly kind!)

While in the OR recovery room I thought (dreamed) I was sitting at my desk. Someone walked up to me and asked me for a pen or pencil, of which I have many, and with my left hand I was searching my desk drawer for the writing instrument. However, when I opened my eyes (because I couldn't find anything) I was merely reaching around under the sheets of the OR bed and pulling on the metal bar at my side. Thankfully no one seemed to notice. They did notice when I tried to pull the blanket over my head, but I have no idea why I did that. Maybe I was looking for a Mojito? lol

Once they moved me to the regular recovery room I drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point (and in a great deal of pain) I felt like I needed to find some information about the procedure I had just gone through. I was standing with a group of medical students who were looking at a wall (trying to read) which was covered in Latin. I stood there for a long time looking at the wall. Some of the words I understood and some I needed to copy into a note book. When I woke up (probably looking for a note book) I was in bed looking at the BARE wall of my recovery room. I was rather disappointed.

I probably had 10 or so of these dreams/visions, or commercials, in my head during the time of my recovery- but unfortunately I can't remember them. I do recall some were worrisome to me...dreams where I had forgotten something important, or I failed to do a vital task, or I was lost- or worse, one of my children were lost. I would wake up in a panic and then have to remind myself that it was just a dream...just a dream Cora.

I didn't have the presence of mind to relay what I had seen, not that any of it would have been coherent or logical. The next time I need surgery though I am going to ask whomever is with me to stand near me and listen to what I say and ask me questions to validate and/or record what I'm thinking. Who knows, there might be a story in there!

I'm home and resting now. I am definitely over the worst part of the pain issues, but still struggling with feeling a bit green. I think by Sunday afternoon I will feel almost normal again. I hope so~

Tomorrow my plans are to listen to the Golden Ganesh (I can hardly wait!!!) and read a great many blog posts which I have missed. Thank you for your thoughts and hugs- both past and present. I look forward to catching up with you all very soon <3>

(PS- any and all "Post-op" stories you have to share are most welcome! :)

Watching you...

“Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. Rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along.”

- Unknown

This spoke to me on many levels when I read it a few days ago. Some relationships end not so much because someone walked out, but because we became distracted, or injured, or simply lost- in the process of survival.

When I consider my kids, almost 14 and 16, and the choices I would make in the following 4 years at their age- it almost makes me breathless. And if I think of my mom, (who did her best, but did NOT do this), taking me by the shoulders and saying "YOU ARE TOO YOUNG!" I am bewildered by what I know my reaction would have been...stubborn and sure of my self..."I'm an Adult!!!"

Hardly.

Even now, at 40, I'm still a tad breathless and bewildered. (understatement) I look back over a list, though short, of relationships/friendships that have ended for whatever reason, and I can't help but ache over what I had hoped for.

I found a card yesterday as I was cleaning out the garage, it was from a blog friend who had sent it back in 2006. He died very unexpectedly a few months later. Suddenly I was overcome with a deep wave of regret and sadness. I had never met him, never spoken to him over the phone, but we loved to write to each other and I cherished his words to me, and he never failed to tell me how thankful he was to have met me- via our blogs.

He was a great deal like the older brother I never had and I honestly miss him. The ending of that relationship, because of death, led me to understand a few things I had not understood before, and in truth, even though he is gone- the relationship is not over. I fully believe he wanted me to find his card again yesterday, which I kept with me in my car for over a year after he died, to give me a little "hug" of sorts. To remind me that love exceeds the boundaries of time and space.

There is power in our written words, especially words we take the time to write on paper with pen or pencil and drop in the mail, or leave on a door step. The hand written letters of my Grandfather and Great Grandfather are worth more to me than any amount of money.

There are also letters I wish now I had not written. Letters penned in haste, or in a moment of passion, which I hope are now burned or buried in a trash pile. Though I do not posses those letters, my mind recalls the foolishness of my bubbling heart, or the brokenness my pen revealed in a puddle of heart ache and tears on paper.

I ache today, from the inside out. A physical issue plagues me at the moment (however, an outpatient surgery should manage it- scheduled for July 10th- keep me in your thoughts) and for some reason I find myself reflecting on love and losses in the past. I look ahead quickly for signs of hope- and I know they are there- but my climb over the next hill just feels a bit steep.

I hope to return soon- and I miss you all. I'm working on a post about a day last week which I spent with a Bee Keeper and about 100,000 bees... and I only got stung once!

Hugs and love- be well- all of you~

Pep Talk

"Spirit of Justice"

My son and I have been trying to focus on positive things in the morning before school- especially in the recent weeks with exams and tight schedules seeming to squeeze the life out of us.
He was dreading one particular class where he has a problem with students being nasty towards him, and I was telling him to "Choose the course of your day!" and "Promise me you won't let the bad behavior of a few kids ruin everything!" "Claim this day- it's yours!!!"
He smiled at me in my rear-view mirror.

When he exited the car and I started to pull away, in my zealous nature, I lowered my window and shouted out to him a thought which had popped into my head (without thinking)...

"Don't let the Bastards Get You Down!!!"

Quite a few eyebrows were raised by fellow parents who were also dropping their kids off this morning...

Sigh. I am pretty sure I will never be asked to serve on the PTA at his school.


True story.

"Her"story

(this will be my last post for awhile...but I send my best to each of you~K9, Kate, Rox, Skunk, libby,Bad Bob, /t, SJ, Foamy, Luxie, NYD, X-Dell, Bardouble, and others who read and love me...I love you too <3)

She sat on the river bank looking West towards the only home she had ever known. It was perfect there. A place without want, or care, or pain. Cool water splashed around her feet while the sun above burned her exposed arms and scalp. The burning was yet a new sensation, and it wasn't pleasant.

Sitting there alone, with time to think about the way her life had unfolded, she was instantly filled with remorse and sadness. Tears welled up in her eyes again and ran down her cheeks. For long moments she simply sat there and wept until her inner well was dry. A gentle breeze ran it's fingers through her hair and left a tingle on her shoulder. As the grief lessened she slipped into the river and splashed cool water on her face and was refreshed. The water was sweet and clean, and except for the sharp stones which jabbed her feet when she moved, the river reminded her of the blissful years she'd spent in her first home. A home where fruit hung heavy on every tree, the grass and fields were free of rough pebbles, and the animals on the farm knew no fear.

Her present home was less pleasant, harsh actually, in comparison to the life she'd once lived, but not unbearable. In this new life she still had access to everything she needed, but she had to work hard for it. Nothing came easy now. Pleasure was almost always accompanied by some amount of pain. She exchanged a life of ease for a life of information, and there seemed to be no shortage of things to learn and things to do.

Before now she had never known fear, anger, jealousy, or an ache in her lower back from the toil of the fields. Her thoughts had once been pure because all that surrounded her was pure. Her life had been filled with love and goodness, but not many choices. She had one choice actually, to obey, or not. The flowers in her first garden did not resist growth. The animals on the farm always came when she called them. The fruit trees always bore their crop, no one had to compel them to do so, and it was the same with her. She had no reason to disobey, until the one fateful day when she was asked the simplest of questions, "Did he really say...?"

She played the encounter over and over again in her head. If only she had refused. If only she had said no. If only she had heeded the warning given to her... but alas, when presented with a choice, even though it was deceptive, she chose her own will. Her choice brought her knowledge, but knowledge came (as it often does) with a heavy price.

Years would pass and she lived always within sight of her first home, but could not return to it. She created a new home, though not as lovely, but every aspect of the dwelling had her touch. The mats on the floor, and the drinking gourds, as well as the flowers in her hair were each chosen by her and she took great pride in making her dwelling a home for her husband and children.

It was a good life. A life with seasons of dedicated work and seasons of harvest. A life with a mix of birth and death, of beauty and of murder, a life where love was even more brilliant in juxtaposition to grief. She marveled at all she had learned. From the way a tiny seed could grow into a tall tree, to the way a moment of passion could plant new life within her- and bring her joy and agony like nothing else in all of existence.

Perhaps, within the confines of her first home her body would have aged more gracefully? Maybe the lines of age etched around her eyes and across her brow would be less if she had never known the pain of mistrust, or the screeching pangs of labor while giving birth? Perhaps her life would be shortened because of one choice made ages ago? She would never know.

What she did know was the strength of her own body and a powerful will to survive. She understood her limits, as well as her ability to surpass those limits when it was required. There was no end to the things she could learn, or love, as well as no end to often painful discoveries.

She had walked with God, spent time with the devil, opted for the freedom to choose her own will, and felt the sting of regret as well as the healing balm of forgiveness.

She had eaten from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Her eyes were indeed opened and she understood the painful, yet enlightening, results from that choice. She would endure death, but she had also lived a full life with experiences both common, and uncommon.

When her days were reaching an end and she could no longer walk in the fields she had tended, or swim in the streams which refreshed and renewed her, she asked to be taken to her own private garden, one she had created with her own hands. There she lay on a mat, under the shady branches of a big tree near her gorgeous flowers, and waited. Would Adam join her in her final moments? Would a serpent stray into her garden for one last bite?

At last, in the hours before the sunset, He came to her. He strode through her garden and smiled at her as He once did many years before. With new strength she stood to greet Him and felt no fear or pain. She knew, inspite of the agony she had caused and the grief released into the world, He was coming to take her home, and she was ready to go with Him.

Taking her by the hand and looking into the aging face of His daughter Eve, he asked her about the life she had lived outside of Eden. With the honesty of a child, because nothing more and nothing less is required, she said, "Lord, I know of pain and of death, of mercy and of forgivness. I've known purity and I have known sin. I know of ease, and of toil. I know of life, and I know of loss. I now understand the life you wanted to give me, but I chose a different path along with the brutal, yet often beautiful, knowledge that came with it. Above all, being in your presence yet again, I understand love."

With unspeakable grace and tenderness, He asked her, "Daughter, do you have any regrets?"

A flood of memories and feelings swept over and through her. In an instant she thought of Adam, and her children, and of the hundreds more who came, or would come, because of her. In that same instant quick flashes of joy and heartache were recalled. Moments of humility, grace, guilt, impatience, peace, gentleness, anger, despair, hope, love...every emotion she had ever felt visited her in the span of a heartbeat.

The question hung in the air like a hummingbird at his favorite flower.

Eve looked up at her Father, and said quietly, "Lord, I have none."

He smiled at her and took Eve home to a place she would never have to leave again.
She had made her final choice, and He saw that it was good.


CRB/ 5-21-2009

What mom's and teachers have in common...

Education: that which reveals to the wise, and conceals from the stupid, the vast limits of their knowledge.

-Mark Twain

Life, death, time...love

I dug a grave last weekend. It was a first for me.




My old cat was exactly that- OLD. I noticed early this year his weight dropping and his hearing appeared to be diminishing. For weeks he went through a phase of either running out in front of my car as I tried to leave the garage, or failing to get up when I pulled into the drive way. His once muscular and stocky body was becoming thin and frail. I changed his diet, added olive oil to his food, and fussed over him a bit more than usual. He loved the attention, but his health did not improve in the slightest.

On Saturday he collapsed following a week of steady decline. Ignoring food and water, and then falling over while taking care of business...I knew it was time to call the vet. I'd been saying goodbye all week and part of me wonders if he hung on as long as he did because of those extra rubs behind his ears. As sick as he was he still purred when I scratched his head and would stretch out a little as I started to withdraw my hand- as if to say- "Please don't stop". When it was time to go my husband and son, with tears in their eyes, took Kramer to the vet and were with him when he passed. I stayed home, got the shovel, and began to dig a hole. I would spend his final moments preparing a place for him to rest.


I discovered as I dug his grave that grief is somewhat lessened (or the edge is taken off) by the act of physical labor. Grief, if fully given into, is much like a sponge and can absorb energy. Having a somewhat mindless physical job to do gave me a sense of purpose. I knew this would be my last task for Kramer.


I thought about men and women ages before me who dug graves to bury their spouses, or worse, their own children; but how it might have created a connection between the temporal and the eternal, between the earth which would hold a physical body, and heaven which held the soul of the deceased. I suddenly understood (though my example pales in comparison to losing a family member) what it meant to stand at a grave and look heavenward with a once living and breathing loved-one beneath my feet and my eyes/heart searching for the spirit of the person which death can not contain. It was a powerful moment for me.


As the grave deepened I marveled at the properties of soil and it's ability to absorb death, and to promote life. It gives, and it takes.


I needed help to finish the grave, and once Tim returned from the Vet's office we finished it together. We cried and we laughed as we worked. Finally it was time for me to put my dear old cat in a box and place him in the spot we had prepared for him. I gently put the box in the bottom of the grave, put 3 good sized stones on top of the box, and then filled in the hole. It was finished.
-


I wondered if we, as a society, miss something valuable in the process of laying a loved one to rest by turning over disposal of the body to professionals? I could have allowed the vet to take Kramer's body and burn it, but in the resolution of his passing I would have missed something profound.
-

He died in the presence of those who loved him, and was buried by hands who had always taken care of him. I ached because he suffered. I wept because he died. When I placed a pot a pansies on his grave site I took a deep breath and felt the purest sense of peace.

Rest well old friend~

My Secret Garden (well, not so secret :)

I made a little corner for me_
a place where I could work, and think, and breathe~

A place for Thai basil-

and purple flowers too~

A place for a secret path-

And a glimpse of "me" too~

Not every thing is to be explained~

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science."

-Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

-

Courtesy of NASA

Sigh- I adore this view~

(of Atlantic Beach,NC- looking at the Sheraton pier)

A little boy with a baseball...and passion- makes me think of someone I love.

cool clouds on a hot evening

Something is hiding here~

A tree which has captured my unworthy heart

I miss July and it's oppressive heat...

like I never have before.

I love this...

"There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills."

- Buddha

The same is true about the "doubt of oneself"- of our ability, and power, and presence.
Ahh...
And the doubt that our love, extinguished or burning brightly, makes a difference. It does, and it did~ Always.

Hugs!

(Thank you Foamy and Rox for your comments below- I removed the post...said what I needed to say and hopefully the eyes which Fate intended to see it- did. <3 )

Stuff~

Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion.
I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.

-Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007)

Monday I injured my back- ouch.

Tuesday I went to see a Dr (just a sprain- but dang it hurt!) and Dad called to tell me he was getting married the day after my birthday in May.

Wed I had to see a physical therapist (she was very helpful)

Thursday my son had oral surgery to have 4 wisdom teeth removed.

It's been a busy week.

Recovery and laughter are the orders for the day... and the weekend!

500th Post~ "Good Things" :)

Almost a "mute monday"-
but not quite~

Home again :)

Scroll- Review- Delete?

It's so easy to hide these days.

Drop out, walk away, change the number, delete the email- the address- and the unwanted messages. The only finger prints left are the ones on your heart, and no one is dusting for those.

Grow up, out- grow your up bringing, wiggle out of a dead skin or super-moisturize the old one, but there is no re-incarnation of this particular flesh. One has to die first. One has to expire and let go. I use to think there was such a thing as second chances, but now I see we're just taken to another "on ramp" a little farther down the highway and let loose to run again...until yet another breather, or re-fill, is necessary.

I've wandered around in different time zones, written deep thoughts on strange horizions, and cursed the mundane of the local Food Lion. I'd rather go to Whole Foods, but is it because it's so much better (well, yes- it is better) or because it's out of the norm??? I don't know. Maybe I just like being around people who seem different from me...Gay, green, super educated, homeless? (just a rumination here)

My wings are clipped. For now. I accept it.

I tried being "out there", I tried hiding, I tried being what I thought he/she/they wanted me to be...I failed. Lol. In one of my journal entries I actually wrote, "The brutal truth of this situation is that I failed to BE ME."

Me-

Who am I anyway? Does it depend on who you ask? Or on what you know? Hmm~

Someone from my past called me today to tell me "I love you". Based on a long relationship, a long time ago, filled with letters, in-depth conversations, and heart-felt words. I've missed that kind of connection in my life, yet, I've had little time for it. My commitment to this person has changed, as has my heart about many things...and I'm unsure how to express that to my friend- who I also love very much. There is a great possibility for rejection once the truth is known. Saddly- I've avoided this person for that very reason.

There are standards set I can not reach. There are expectations I can not meet. Like many others I know- I feel like I've been asked to build the Ark with Lincoln Logs, or the great Pyramid with legos. I don't have everything I need to produce the expected end result, not that I haven't tried. Oh- yes...I've tried.

We all try. We all fail. We don't fail all the time, mind you, but this is what we all have in common- more often than not- where we connect is in our mistakes, in our losses, in our struggles.

I've hidden. I've dropped out. I've also been dropped- and it hurts. This year I don't have the painful distractions I had last year (and I am thankful), but nor do I have the drama that kept me from looking too closely at some of the deeper truths I uncovered- which can not be changed, undone, or deleted.

(Bone, if you find the application on the Blackberry which does that...let me know~)

Peace as I scroll through stuff. Lots of stuff...

Mayden Wondering,or Wandering...not sure which~

" I think people don't place a high enough value on how much they are nurtured by doing whatever it is that totally absorbs them."

-Jean Shinoda Bolen

What absorbs you?

I got a Blackberry over the weekend- I'm feeling a tad absorbed, and overwhelmed by it- LOL :)
The camera's not bad~ :)

A Tale of Winter Love~

After tomorrow, he'll be gone-
All will vanish except for his knowing smile and perhaps a trace amount of vegetation.
I've only seen him a few times, but he makes me feel happy inside. He puts a grin on my face and reminds me of joyful moments lived long, long ago.

His cool demeanor is just for show. A hug from him might seem stiff, or even frosty, but I assure you- he's the real deal. Not a heart of ice, but rather a heart made with laughter, giggles, and little angel hands which gave their all- including wishes to hear him say, "Salutations!" :)

I know it will be a long time before someone like him greets me again. I felt a twinge of sadness in knowing our parting will be soon, and for an extended period of time.
He's special, especially in these parts.

It's always a pleasure to see him...
but perhaps something of a pleasure to also see him go?

;)

~Time Out~

I'm swamped for now-
Back in March :)

"I'll never fall in-love again" REDUX (kudos to /t <3 )

Hope you enjoy this one Libby :)

This is a different video, same song :)

A kiss! The word is sweet...

A kiss, when all is said, - what is it?

A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste,

A vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip,

A rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.'

A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear,

Infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower,

Secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven,

The pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever.'"

-Cyrano

♥~♥~♥

~ Valentines Day ~

This is a re-post, but seemed fitting for today-



This morning, in a Hardee's restaurant, I stood in line behind an elderly couple placing an order. The lady told the cashier what they wanted and the gentleman paid for breakfast. Their 2 little biscuits and coffee cost $3.79.

As he opened his wallet to take out his cash, he pulled out a $50 bill in Mexican money (Pesos?) turned his head, and grinned at me. He said, "They won't take this stuff"- and I smiled and replied, "No, I don't think they will". After he paid, he turned to me again and took out a bill I didn't recognize. As he showed it to me he said- with an even bigger grin, "They won't take this either!" I asked him where it was from, he answered, "The Soviet Union". I laughed and said, "Well, you are just loaded aren't you?" He laughed too- and then shuffled off to follow his wife to their table.
I placed my order next. As I waited at the counter I turned to watch the elderly couple and I caught them at the exact moment they held hands, lowered their heads, and gave thanks for their food. Tears welled up in my eyes immediately. A thousand thoughts and feelings swept over me as I stood watching. I didn't know the human brain could process so many thoughts and feelings in such a tiny span of time, but it did. In a matter of seconds I went from thinking about my chicken biscuit to getting weepy over a couple of old folks who were merely doing what they've probably done for 50 years or more. It was beautiful.

I wondered about their life and I secretly wanted to interview them. However, that would have been a distraction for me because what was at the root of my tears had nothing to do with the life they've led, and everything to do with my own. I realized, with all my heart, I wanted an investment in another person that would pay out this kind of gold in my old age.

I want more than love, and passion, and adoration- I want *Nirvana. I want the finished product at the end of my life to be whole and unbroken- I want to be saturated and satisfied. I want the kind of bliss I saw this morning between 2 old people holding hands and giving thanks for their simple breakfast.
I think today, for the first time in my life, I saw the PRIZE. I saw it for what it really is and I feel utterly inept in trying to describe it. Even now as I sit here typing -the tightness in my throat and the tears on my cheeks are all I have to express how I feel.

I was called away and didn't get to ask the couple any questions, but I didn't need to. Sometimes the facts of a matter ding or tarnish the patina of feelings or sentiment. I didn't want anything to spoil what I was thinking and feeling- so I am at peace about not having the history of their life. (Although, if I ever see them again, I will ask :)

The Prize, exactly as I saw it this morning is Unconditional Love, both the giving and receiving of it. I'm aware Unconditional Love is different things to different people. For some of us it simply means keeping our word. For others it means giving up an organ, or taking care of another until the bitter end. The form of such love isn't universal, but the nature of it, how it makes us feel, and the way it sustains us- THAT is universal.


Having seen the Prize I know what to strive for. I realize I've experienced it a few times in my life- although often it seems fleeting - I'm determined to keep asking and reaching for it. At the same time I believe I must give it away freely before it will come back to me in abundance.


"Love" is one thing. "Unconditional Love" is something else entirely... I wish it for all of us.


Happy Valentines Day friends.

"Brown"

My vision is altered, changed-
No longer can I see
The perfect simplicity
Of Black and White

Even the color of love,
Once a cotton-fluff-shade-of pink ♥
Is splattered with the intense purple of passion,
And smeared with drops of Crimson

As if the Secret doors, or-
The curtain behind which Oz is hiding-
Have all been opened,
Or pulled back.

~Nothing is quite what it seems~


The light of each day surrenders to the dark,
Birth is not painless
Love is often complicated
Our Golden-life-giving Sun causes cancer

Opposite sides of the same coin
Are both seen at once-
My mind is barely pliable
Enough to grasp the harsh truth
Behind each reality.



I wonder though, if my altered sight is an improvement or a deterioration?


Much as a scuba diver drops into a world of watery filled light- with visibility in sharp decline to the surface above, and yet, a whole new world appears before him.

Eyes adjust, new discoveries are made with whatever light is possible.
Reflective patterns on spotted fishes and Orange coral are only to be seen with a mask and in the liquid murky depths of the sea.

The experience will change the diver, but did his vision improve because of the experience?
I only know the ocean will never look the same to him again.

They say with age comes wisdom.
These days I mostly feel befuddled.

The colors I associate with life have begun to run-
The vibrant oil paints have become watercolors.


Blue bleeds into red = purple streaks-
Yellow washes into Blue = green flourishes.
All the colors of the rainbow drip on to the floor...
There are NO shades of Gray,

I see Muddy Brown.

The questions and answers,
Myths, truth, illusions, and reality-
All exist is this most earthy of shades...
the color of soil, and seeds, tiny birds, and swollen rivers.

Gone are the days of Black and White.


-CRB 11-30-2008

Love...