Living in voluntary simplicity
is a lot harder than you might think!
Like uncovering a lot of grimy dust
behind the stove
and a half dead spider
behind the big screen T.V. all because
of trying to throw away
old clothes and food stuff!
It's those layers of delusion
that keep going deeper and deeper
to sort out until
I'm down to the bare essentials.
Maybe I'll still be wearing a headband, though!
is a lot harder than you might think!
Like uncovering a lot of grimy dust
behind the stove
and a half dead spider
behind the big screen T.V. all because
of trying to throw away
old clothes and food stuff!
It's those layers of delusion
that keep going deeper and deeper
to sort out until
I'm down to the bare essentials.
Maybe I'll still be wearing a headband, though!
Today I could be a
Brown Recluse (as in spider) Diva!
I’m on the Eight Fold Path again.
I was on it back in 2007,
and lost my way.
It’s letting go day, again
Five more things!
Beware of possessions which
wind up owning the owner.
I felt like Samson on Saturday
because I moved the stove and refrigerator
out from the wall.
Took a photo of this Tupelo Honey bottle
sitting on the stove
before I put it in the give-away bag.
I washed the white comforter for the last time,
it’s been on the waterbed
20 years.
This is Shelby-Joan on the comforter
a good remembrance.
Someone at Good Will will be as
happy, as I have been, in finding
the perfect needed thing.
Already I feel lighter
This is my much underlined guide book.
I’m re-reading both of these.
I LOVE to stage photos!
Learning to live in voluntary simplicity
is a never ending process.
like Sisyphus rolling
that heavy stone back up the hill.
I have time to sketch a favorite book.
And take a photo of the ever changing garden.
~
Oops! I must catch up on the
Friday Writings
These words were from Maya Angelou’s book of poems:
dust, silence, sparrow, speak, unknown, bump
I wrote:
A sparrow chirped outside the kitchen window,
dust was building up around their lives
she would rarely speak of things
to him, anymore,
and when she bumped her head
on the cupboard door,
oh!
the flood of tears
the flood of tears
endless,
unending
She wrote:
she didn’t like to dust
he didn’t like to speak
he simply a bumping beat
on a quiet winter night
she merely a brown sparrow chattering
on a sunny summer morning.
~~
Is this a brown recluse spider?
It was on the white wicker bureau
just sitting there, barely moving behind the tv
I put it in an old medicine bottle.
stay tuned . . .
~~~
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