I've woken this morning badly, filled with uncontrolled anxiety. I can't seem to calm myself. My brain is filled with bad ju-ju. A crew is coming to service my a.c. unit this morning. They are already ion their way. It is unavoidable. I have a service contract. I will stay outside while they are here, but that is not what's causing my anxiety. I'll need to get this under control somehow.
I am baffled by the impermanence of life. The inevitability of one's demise overwhelms me. None of it makes sense to me any more.
I need to go prepare for the service crew. This is all I can manage at the moment.
wish I had a sure-fire cure for when the Black Dog bites. I have more to be grateful for than most and he gets a hold of me something fierce sometimes. I hope this time around for you is just a nip and not one of those pit-bull chomps.
ReplyDeleteI know how about an amusing Appalachian American story to cheer you up a mite.
My old pal, Sammy, went a-huntin one day in Southern Ohiah, I think you heard tell of Sammy afore; he was that ex-midget from the circus. But that’s another story.
Sammy shot hisself three ducks and threw them in the trunk of his car for the drive home, but just then and there this smart-alecky game warden come up who didn’t like midgets much and Appalachian Americans even less.
He says to Sammy: “Show me your Ohio hunting license.”
So, Sammy dug into his wallet and pulled out a valid Ohiah license. (You will note that Sammy knowed how Ohiah was properly spelled.)
Well, that bigoted game warden grabbed one of the ducks out of the trunk of Sammy’s car, sniffed its butt and said:
“This duck ain’t from Ohio. This is a West Virginia Duck. Have you got a hunting license for West Virginia?”
So, Sammy dug into his wallet again and pulled out a valid West Virginy license. That annoyed the game warden a bit so he grabbed a second duck out of the trunk, sniffed its butt and said:
“This duck ain’t from West Virginia. This is a Kentucky Duck. Have you got a license to hunt in Kentucky?”
So, once again Sammy dug into his wallet and pulled out a valid Kentucky hunting license.
Well that annoyed the game warden even more, so he grabs the third duck out of the trunk of Sammy’s car, sniffs its butt and says:
“This duck ain’t from Kentucky. This duck is from Tennessee. Have you got a Tennessee licenses?!?”
I probably don’t need to tell you by now, but sure enough Sammy reaches into his wallet and pulls out a valid Tennessee hunting license.
Well, the game warden was plumb roped off by now and so he just leans down and screams in Sammy’s face:
“Goddamn it you little sawed off hillbilly runt, just where the hell are you from?!?”
Sammy just turned around, bent over, dropped his drawers, and said:
“You tell me, sombitch, you’re the goddamn expert!”
I'm sorry to hear. Hope it clears off soon enough.
ReplyDeleteI've been cleaning and dancing mostly this morning. You know, kitchen counters, blah bah blah.
I found a wonderful letter today - I have an antique Shaker measure in the bookshelves Poetry section - I keep in there small poem things. Anything I have published - some Revelry magazines, my friends small chap books - old Poetry issues. My "badge" that says "Lisa Nickerson, Poet" from an event I used to participate in at the local Cultural Center.
The letter was a gift - but it was only a small part of the gift really - from a poet I knew. Not My Poet. Another. This Poet put me "in touch" with Paramahansa Yogananda and his disciple whom the letter is from - Swami Kriyananda.
And while the relationship between myself and the poet did not exactly have a happy ending - (Cancer - v. v. grippy - can't get out of their claws - kinda of scary) I am so grateful for the gift he gave me.
I did just email him to let him know the letter was safe - as that is what his note that came with it said " I want you to have it and unlike me keep it somewhere safe."
It is a letter announcing his book.
It was written August 15, 1977 and is typed on now- yellowed stationery.
"The project took me twenty-eight years ...."
"This book is the most complete statement, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually - that I am capable of making. "
"What will my life be," I wonder "now that such a statement has been made?"
"And then, finally, as I contrasted our soul-fulfilling way of life with the barrenness of a life of worldly ambition, I came to feel that many people might be inspired to find a better way if they had an opportunity to read about how other Westerns like themselves had been attracted to the search for enlightenment."
"Probably the hardest thing in writing about oneself is to find that fine, impersonal line of utter honesty between one's own natural desire to be seen in a good light, and the tendency, whenever one cannot so be seen, to express exaggerated remorse over the darkness. "
And other stuff. I read the "The Path" and of course "Autobiography of a Yogi". - I still give the latter as a gift to graduating college students.
I don't know what happened to the Swami. I don't want to know. I'm going to leave it as it is in my head. Frightened of finding something #metoo
I know - astrology and Yogis - she's crazy. Well of course, and I use whatever is available to help me through.
I try to say this every night before I go to sleep - it is from Yogananda:
The body melts into the universe.
The universe melts into the soundless voice.
The sound melts into the all-shining light.
And the light enters the bosom of infinite joy.
I share it for anyone who wants to cop it for themselves.
Or not. :).