No one will be left behind
Devin and I hit some balls yesterday. Tennis balls. You all will be happy to know that his thumb, which broke 19 days ago, is healing quickly within a fiberglass cast. It was nice to just wack away and not play any games. While we hit he tried tossing the ball up in the air with his broken left hand for some serve practice. To his surprise, he had no difficulty. This morning, Devin played against Millenium. Devin won 6-0 6-3. "I let him win those games" Devin said "I practiced hitting the ball hard and going for winners. He had a good stroke. I was surprised."
Living in this quasi-community for the past 18 months has been interesting. I've seen many folks come and go. The latest on this sensitive topic is that Millenium will be going. He's been moved off the work-trade-for-rent deal and is now expected to pay actual dollars. I wonder who will move here next. Maybe we'll get somebody to replace our cosmic gardener. Poetically, I'd like to have some one called Century. Aeon could work to. I like the sound of Leap Year as well. I am not too particular.
While in my t-house this morning, Tool, my cat, lay beside me. The gas powered leaf blowers must have started at eight. This is the noise which woke me this morning and sent Tool off to some other corner of the estate. These little whining engines were relentless. I tried putting a pillow over my head, fingers in my ears, deep breaths, nothing worked, I felt the grinding vibrations in my blood, in my bones, in my skin. The residue of this noise pollution echoed, rebounded, lingered just beneath the surface of my consciousness.
When I finally surrender to the fact that sleep time has ended, jump out of the t-house and begin walking to the yoga studio, I see the two amigos, responsible for the abrupt end to my rest, climb into a pic-up and drive away. Oh well I think, Its yoga/tai chi/didj time any way. I spend the next 2 hours in there, screwing my head back on, bathing my own personal universe of atoms, molecules, cells, neurons, bones, body hair, discs, organs and space in healing vibrations, oxygen and rock n roll. Life aint so bad.
The list tells me what to do. I don't have to think. Look at the piece of paper do it. If I do think, It's OK, it might even come in handy. I walk out to the Vista yurt. Tooley follows me. The further we get from his normal territory the more he meows. I pause let him catch up encourage him. "Come on Tooley." He runs quickly, glancing around, big bushy tail between his legs. His ears twitch in concert with all the bird songs and bird voices, clicking, whistling.
Walk back, listen to the birds, encourage the cat to pick up the pace: "Come on, Tooley, no dilly dallying, I got things to do." Check the list. Water pressure in pool showers is low. Take apart the shower head, Clean out the debris. Check the list. Recharge the lamps in the t-houses, the Amrita Yurt. Check for Gaudalupe candles. Walk all the spaces. Make sure the maid knows what needs to be cleaned. Otherwise you're stuck with it.
The rest of the day will be getting the grounds ready for a hundred people. You will handle the parking all by yourself. No one can get boxed in. This is advanced Tetris - so pay attention. One out of every three drivers will ask: "You're not going to box me in are you?"
"No, I'm parking every one so that no one is boxed in. No one will be left behind." Then salute them like they are your commanding officer. Smile too, it's a nice touch.
The cars pour in, just a couple at first, then in fives, then tens. Its just you running around saying things like: "Park here, please make a right - just like the arrow, please follow me, thanks for your patience. Finally its full but the cars keep rolling in. They can park on the street now or down the hill on a side street or where ever. Who cares? You just want to watch the Spurs Pistons basketball game.
Your motorcycle battery has the night off but thats OK, we're on a hill. Gravity is your starter, momentum is your friend. Tonight, you'll watch the Spurs lose to the Pistons in an antique Airstream mobile home on an 8 inch TV hooked up to a satellite dish.
When you go to let Angus the cat in and feed him, you'll find him on top of the neighbor's house again. He'll be staring at the stars. For some reason, he comes down when you ask him to. "Thanks Angey" you'll say with wonderment. Of course, you left the back door open so when you carry him in and place him on the floor, he smells the fresh air and makes a dash for freedom. You anticipate his escape attempt and scoop him up. "Come on Angey," you say "you gotta try harder than that."
Living in this quasi-community for the past 18 months has been interesting. I've seen many folks come and go. The latest on this sensitive topic is that Millenium will be going. He's been moved off the work-trade-for-rent deal and is now expected to pay actual dollars. I wonder who will move here next. Maybe we'll get somebody to replace our cosmic gardener. Poetically, I'd like to have some one called Century. Aeon could work to. I like the sound of Leap Year as well. I am not too particular.
While in my t-house this morning, Tool, my cat, lay beside me. The gas powered leaf blowers must have started at eight. This is the noise which woke me this morning and sent Tool off to some other corner of the estate. These little whining engines were relentless. I tried putting a pillow over my head, fingers in my ears, deep breaths, nothing worked, I felt the grinding vibrations in my blood, in my bones, in my skin. The residue of this noise pollution echoed, rebounded, lingered just beneath the surface of my consciousness.
When I finally surrender to the fact that sleep time has ended, jump out of the t-house and begin walking to the yoga studio, I see the two amigos, responsible for the abrupt end to my rest, climb into a pic-up and drive away. Oh well I think, Its yoga/tai chi/didj time any way. I spend the next 2 hours in there, screwing my head back on, bathing my own personal universe of atoms, molecules, cells, neurons, bones, body hair, discs, organs and space in healing vibrations, oxygen and rock n roll. Life aint so bad.
The list tells me what to do. I don't have to think. Look at the piece of paper do it. If I do think, It's OK, it might even come in handy. I walk out to the Vista yurt. Tooley follows me. The further we get from his normal territory the more he meows. I pause let him catch up encourage him. "Come on Tooley." He runs quickly, glancing around, big bushy tail between his legs. His ears twitch in concert with all the bird songs and bird voices, clicking, whistling.
Walk back, listen to the birds, encourage the cat to pick up the pace: "Come on, Tooley, no dilly dallying, I got things to do." Check the list. Water pressure in pool showers is low. Take apart the shower head, Clean out the debris. Check the list. Recharge the lamps in the t-houses, the Amrita Yurt. Check for Gaudalupe candles. Walk all the spaces. Make sure the maid knows what needs to be cleaned. Otherwise you're stuck with it.
The rest of the day will be getting the grounds ready for a hundred people. You will handle the parking all by yourself. No one can get boxed in. This is advanced Tetris - so pay attention. One out of every three drivers will ask: "You're not going to box me in are you?"
"No, I'm parking every one so that no one is boxed in. No one will be left behind." Then salute them like they are your commanding officer. Smile too, it's a nice touch.
The cars pour in, just a couple at first, then in fives, then tens. Its just you running around saying things like: "Park here, please make a right - just like the arrow, please follow me, thanks for your patience. Finally its full but the cars keep rolling in. They can park on the street now or down the hill on a side street or where ever. Who cares? You just want to watch the Spurs Pistons basketball game.
Your motorcycle battery has the night off but thats OK, we're on a hill. Gravity is your starter, momentum is your friend. Tonight, you'll watch the Spurs lose to the Pistons in an antique Airstream mobile home on an 8 inch TV hooked up to a satellite dish.
When you go to let Angus the cat in and feed him, you'll find him on top of the neighbor's house again. He'll be staring at the stars. For some reason, he comes down when you ask him to. "Thanks Angey" you'll say with wonderment. Of course, you left the back door open so when you carry him in and place him on the floor, he smells the fresh air and makes a dash for freedom. You anticipate his escape attempt and scoop him up. "Come on Angey," you say "you gotta try harder than that."
posted by Dij at 10:46 PM
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