The Why Photograph

A Squished Pinecone*

Do you feel sorry for everything that shows trace vulnerability? 
Think berry picking. Passing up or tossing the ones that are damaged in some way. Do you think about how a person can relate to not being the perfect one on the branch? 

What's this all about? Well, it is like this. On a slow autumn afternoon, as I lightly recover enough energy to accomplish more than I have been, I look once again to old pictures for a get-a-better-attitude boost (shove actually). There has been a lot of thinking going on here.

I posted a poem born out of this mood of mine on my poetry blog, Coffee Frappes & Seashells, A Pervading. The line that sticks with me is...flitters like a dry leaf, clinging to a dead tree.Those words describe how I feel. The mood is the result of pressing myself to figure out how to turn old habits towards the horizons in life that I face, (largely facing the sunset.)

Take a simple thing like a squished pinecone on the driveway to analyze why I stop to take a photograph. Why blares in my brain. Am I just an eccentric artist? I could be. After all, I am a septuagenarian. That comes with a ten year free to be anomalous me license. 

Over thinking can be entertaining.

How are your autumn afternoons going?

*Taken circa 2004

The Buy the Farm, Dirt Desert, Bucket Kicking Days

 

Party is over, done with, no turning back the hands of time for me. I'm old for sure.* No this is the new 60. 

So how am I feeling about being 3 quarters of a century as an air breather? In a state of awe actually, that I made it this far, especially when I think back to times when that felt iffy. 

Ah, the adventures of youth, they aren't near as cool as it is to be so experienced living. There has been history I have lived. I was alive when Einstein walked the Earth. When Eisenhower was no longer president, I cried thinking America's lost a father. I am a living part of history from the hippie flower child era. 

As a side effect, I am feeling a sense of needing to adjust my attitude(s). Tidy up, get things sorted, clean up my projects, and such. Also, consider doing things that won't matter much, like trying out that temporary tattoo. I'm not interested in capturing my younger years, being hip, cool. I've been that. I am that. My interest is in having fun being full of years. 

The aches and pains, skin changes, weight gain and such are not fun. The idea that this is thee most defined era of My Life is hilarious to me. I know for sure I will not repeat 75 years living. At most, I might make it to a hundred, 2048. More likely, I will be gone within ten years. Scary it is not. I believe is some form, life continues by the grace of God. 

Human existence has always been fascinating to me. What puzzles me is that for all the advances in science, there is no way yet discovered to help folks transition to the next stage. Paranormal investigations are mostly theater, I believe, to the majority of people. In reality, those people that promote the paranormal, are the ones helping people to understand that life as we have been told, doesn't have a clear boundary between life and death.

*My birthday has gone by.

Thoughts in June

 The lobelia are doing well. The impatiens are slow. In the weeks ahead, I suspect sunny days will turn me into a rain substitute.

Three plus months no television, I began watching YouTube videos. Missing TV is minimal. Suprises me. 

Current pondering issues:

 -> How or when do you know the difference between being thrilled with a project versus tired if it and just want it done?  

-> The portability of boredom means I can go anywhere with it, even on walks. 

-> What kind of life is...Might as well? Is it a handy decision tool or a handy excuse?

For this summer, another want to is added to my list. Sand. What it so great about walking and sitting on sand. I feel a major essay developing.

In a way, blogging is like writing an essay.