Every day ~ the whole of my life ~ becomes an act of letting go.
Pi and Secondhand Surfer
“I’d have to say, that is usually in the hot sun’.
This is a sticky page.
As administrator of this blog, I have tagged this page to make it my cover, until I decide to change it. I maintain a minimalist presence. My – who am I – and who I am not – was written in the embryonic stage, of this venture. It gives you a
synapses synopsis, of Secondhand Surfer ~ unburdened by detail. That is the nature of this journal. It is the “essence” of.
My posts are photos and poems, opinions and confessions. At times I am cryptic, while at others, embarrassingly revealing.
The unexamined life is not worth living.
After thirteen years studying and pursuing a spiritual life, I chose to move beyond what I knew. I decided to Let Go, and leap forward into the unknown. I crossed the threshold of my front door, and began to navigate life, blindfold. Many years later, one day at a time, I continue surrendering to Providence. Read more…
In December 2011, when I cast my first blog post, (if I remember correctly) Word Press said, join the 500,000 bloggers world wide. I thought to myself, world wide, really? My blog will be a “sort of” unique form of communication. I related it to tossing a bottle into the ocean.
The years have passed and there are now 60,000,000 blogs. That’s a population explosion!
This blog has been my best friend. It has been a tool for growth. It has been a means, for me to inadvertently tell my story, and stay linked to my estranged family.
I have never pursued readers. My content is what it is. It’s a journal. I’m not selling anything.
i never thought that I would get so much out of this cyber communication.
It’s caused me to pause and relay my thoughts in a way that might be effective. Not controlling ~ actually the opposite.
To, speak my truth, let go and find freedom. Read more…
It makes me think ~ I could have stayed on a longboard all of those years.
Why chase the crowd?
The 19th century was also the beginning of modern science, with the work of Louis Pasteur, Charles Darwin, Gregor Mendel, Michael Faraday, Henri Becquerel, and Marie Curie, and inventors such as Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison and Alexander Graham Bell. The world was changing rapidly, too rapidly for many, who feared the changes taking place and longed for a simpler time. The Romantic movement exemplified these feelings. Romantics tended to believe in imagination over reason, the “organic” over the mechanical, and a longing for a simpler, more pastoral times. Poets like William Wordsworth and William Blake believed that the technological changes that were taking place as a part of the industrial revolution were polluting their cherished view of nature as being perfect and pure. – from the history – of technophobia – Wikipedia
I would not call my apprehension, imagination over reason. We don’t have to turn back too many pages, to see the rapid acceleration of technology.
It’s out of my control. Read more…
We were all nervy with an unspoken anticipation. We were accelerating toward something and we didn’t know what. Geek Love – Katherine Dunn
It’s safe to say that they were moving towards the grave, these long-gone ancestors of mine. In 1962, speed had a different connotation. It was the pace of a powder blue Impala, crossing long, low bridges, over deep, dark waters, heading south to Orangedale. The glide of a push button Dodge Dart, maneuvering the Trout River Bridge. And a big, black-house Mercury, lumbering through the neighborhood, to pick up Nell, who inched her way down the stairs of a Riverside, garage apartment.
They knew the Rosary, moonshine, horses, men, speakeasys, the St. John’s River, The Jacksonville Zoo, Palmo Fish Camp, family gatherings and dinners, R & R whiskey, Timiquan Indian blackouts, and deadly fire on the Main St. Bridge.
They were welcomed by the Orange Park Garden Club, the Westside Saddle Club, and Our Lady of the Angels Catholic Church.
Time and family are ethereal. They sway in the oaks, their moss heavy, pulling toward the earth.
Rotars no longer ring. ~ Evergreen 389 ~ Now boxes talk, in silence. ~ OMG, lol ~ Real time is a reality that isn’t real.
Yet, we all move in the same direction, as those of old.
What do we know?
The Rosary, psychotropics, horses, men, honkey tonks, the St. John’s River, The Jacksonville Zoo, Ruth Chris Steak House, campgrounds, river fronts and beaches, red wine, “lawyers, guns and money”, and a deadly boating accident.
Who are we welcomed by?
Rogers Towers, Attorneys at Law, Fischer, Tousey, Leas and Ball, yet more attornies who protect family “wealth”, Jesse Summers, C.P.A., old time, rodeo, tax preparer and the magnanimous, McMenemy, our benevolent executor.
Time and family are extrasolar. The palms stretch towards the heavens, yet are burdened by the weight of their fronds.
The here and now is all we have.
I once e-mailed my three sisters, if you care more about me than you do money, please respond.
There was no reply.
I walked yesterday morning to a spot, that I calculate daily, suspending the morning light; a stratum of pink and peach hues, that veil the mountains, boats and sea. This photo, in no way, exhibits the Holy Oneness I experience in this sector. Soon, I will try another angle.
I will love the light, because it shows me the Way. ~ me and Og
The circle of life. Rafa is the one I’m passing this sport on to. Yes, I hired a coach for him. Carlos, from AllDREAMSURFSCHOOL. My hope is he will love it as much as I do. From the way it looks, I believe he does. Even though he doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Spanish (fluently) we share a language; the love of the ocean.