From a notebook I started after my friend, Kim, had a breakdown and chased me from her rented house with a machete.
just looking for a few pages to start writing again. I retired and started down the New River on a boat on April 1, 2011. I got sick and returned to the house on Monroe Street and then moved to an apartment at Northwinds, still in Wytheville, VA when my friends Laurie and Mike started talking about getting married and having a baby. I went back on the river weekends while taking medications until the doctors said that I had no signs of continuing cancer.
I made a raft and journeyed to the southern end of Ohio by drifting down the New, Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. Hundreds were kind and caring, and only one or two were angry or thieving. All in all, I had a very good time.
I look at life as I look at the shadows of a tree or a hedge. The broken patterns make a portrait that can only be completed by the eye of my mind. Right this moment, I am only looking but not completing a picture. I wonder if seeing an image is more important than refining its details. A pattern discovered but not refined allows for more patterns to be seen. Too much detail is restricting.
once upon a time... in the green woods of the 21st century Appalachian, once upon a time new mountains, now grown old and worn, festooned with just beginning to turn oak and sycamore, but not a single American Chestnut tree leaves, there walked an elderly lady , who had not always been elderly or a lady. She walks and never gets lost. She walks not caring where she goes because all destinations are a surprise to her, even the sometimes walks toward home. She walks because it can hurt to sit down and rest for too long.
She walks, seeing, hearing and remembering, putting pieces together and taking them apart again. She walks from time to other times and back. She walks into and out of the world but never out of all worlds. Every day she walks and the world becomes brand new.
just looking for a few pages to start writing again. I retired and started down the New River on a boat on April 1, 2011. I got sick and returned to the house on Monroe Street and then moved to an apartment at Northwinds, still in Wytheville, VA when my friends Laurie and Mike started talking about getting married and having a baby. I went back on the river weekends while taking medications until the doctors said that I had no signs of continuing cancer.
I made a raft and journeyed to the southern end of Ohio by drifting down the New, Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. Hundreds were kind and caring, and only one or two were angry or thieving. All in all, I had a very good time.
I look at life as I look at the shadows of a tree or a hedge. The broken patterns make a portrait that can only be completed by the eye of my mind. Right this moment, I am only looking but not completing a picture. I wonder if seeing an image is more important than refining its details. A pattern discovered but not refined allows for more patterns to be seen. Too much detail is restricting.
once upon a time... in the green woods of the 21st century Appalachian, once upon a time new mountains, now grown old and worn, festooned with just beginning to turn oak and sycamore, but not a single American Chestnut tree leaves, there walked an elderly lady , who had not always been elderly or a lady. She walks and never gets lost. She walks not caring where she goes because all destinations are a surprise to her, even the sometimes walks toward home. She walks because it can hurt to sit down and rest for too long.
She walks, seeing, hearing and remembering, putting pieces together and taking them apart again. She walks from time to other times and back. She walks into and out of the world but never out of all worlds. Every day she walks and the world becomes brand new.
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