Smith and Rock

Only minutes before the whole thing began I was seated at a table near the cafe door and wearing a mood that would stop traffic had there been any. It wasn't my usual morning brood. No, this was deeper angst brought on by Ms. Wonder's insistence that I make those phone calls today.

Nothing is more unpleasant than interviewing health-care providers and making appointments by phone. Yes, I know that it sounds perfectly simple to you but you haven't tried it, have you?

I'd finished two double espressos and still, the outlook was dark. Even wearing my new beret hadn't helped as much as I'd hoped. Don't get me wrong, the latest choice in head joy did make me feel slightly better than otherwise but the mood remained in the cellar. I'd become convinced that the Universe was taking advantage of me and not in a good way.

Into my awareness, there slowly crept sounds of commotion coming from the alley behind Port City Cafe. I could hear a dog barking and crows raising a ruckus. I decided to check it out and walked around the building to the delivery dock.

As soon as I rounded the corner, a cargo van came screeching into the alley. The turn was so sharp that the van tilted up on two wheels and plowed through a row of garbage cans before coming to a stop.

You surely recognize the MO. It was Princess Amy who loves to arrive in a whirlwind of drama. Amy wasn't literally driving a van. An almond-shaped cluster of brain cells can't get a driver's license in the Carolinas. You know that.

"Well, you certainly don't see that every day," I said to her as she crawled out of the wreckage. I had to say something complimentary after she'd gone to so much trouble to impress me.

"Thanks," she said. "Kind of you to say so. I feel much better now," she said as she brushed her blouse and jeans. 

"I'm sure you do," I said.

"Now," she said with a deep breath, "what's all this nonsense about you not having a purpose?"

I admit the question took me by surprise. I recoiled slightly and searched the data banks for the appropriate response.

"Well...," I said.

"Save it," she said. "And now you listen to me. You are the chosen dark minion just like I told you in the dream."

"I am?"

"Just not of revolution and wholesale social change," she said.

"Uh...," I said.

"It's more like redirection and subterfuge," she said. "And so from now on, you must listen to me and do exactly as I say and everything will go fine."

Well, I knew this was nonsense and pure piffle, I mean I may be the lead squirrel in the race to the nut tree but I'm not stupid.

"But what about?" I said.

"You let me handle that," she said.

"What if?" I said.

"I'll take care of it," she said.

I stared at her in silence much like Chris Rock stared at Will Smith at the Academy Awards.

Amy climbed back into the driver's seat in the van, started the engine, and as she drove away she said, "Next time you see me I'll be driving a semi. Have a good morning. " And with that, she was gone.

"What about the sewer harpies?" I yelled but she was too far away to hear me.

The Russian Doll

For some time now, I've felt as though I'm caught in a time loop, like that Netflix series, Russian Doll, in which the heroine repeatedly dies and then wakes the next morning to relive the previous day. Unfortunately for me, the series ended before the writers explained how she escaped.

Frustrating isn't a strong enough word to describe my circumstances. Maddening comes close. Even writing has become a struggle and writing this blog is the one thing that I could always count on to make me feel better.

I've tried many different ways to change my situation, but no matter how hard I try, blah, blah, blah. Know what I mean? Futile. A bust. Pffththth! Like the man said in his best-selling book, one familiar to us all, 

"...for what I would, that I do not; but what I hate, that I do."

I know! My life story, for the nonce. But hey! Those who know me best, know that I refuse to eat pine needles. Not familiar with the term? It's an Inner Circle thing. If you're new here, you might want to search the blog posts for that phrase, "eat pine needles."

Now, I'm all too familiar with what Rumi says in his poem, The Guest House. It's something along the lines of, 

"Being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, 

comes as an unexpected visitor.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond."

I try to follow this advice but it never seems to end well. Like the star of that TV program mentioned above, I die each night and wake up to the same day all over again. Well, my friend, let me be clear about where this guide from beyond has led me. It's like this:

I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! I'll still welcome them at the door and invite them to make themselves at home but damn if I'm going to join them for tea.

Now, I don't have grandiose plans and I'm not overly confident. I have no idea about where all this is going to lead and I don't make any promises or make any predictions. But I'm going to practice Fierce Qigong like the dickens because something's got to give.

Many thanks to everyone who's stuck by me this far, especially you. To quote Ms. Wonder, "I've said it before and it's still true...I don't know what I'd do without you."

What's It Mean?

Every day has the potential to be better than the day before. But it doesn't happen auto-magically.  No, not as if we have inalienable rights or whatnot. We must insist on getting our fair share and, if I've learned anything at all, it's that we must activate the stubborn gene. I hope you remember how to do that. The way it's worded in the book is that we must insist on living happy, joyous, and free.

We don't want to dwell on every little bump in the road, of course, but I think it best to advise you that today there will be turbulence. Those of you who are regulars here on The Circular Journey will know what to do. If you're a newcomer, please make sure your shoulder harness is securely fastened, keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and if you have a history of motion sickness, get the Dramamine now. The faithful who trust in magic and sorcery will wear the copper bracelet. 

And now for the disclaimer--all information shared on this blog is expected to be held in strict confidence. Sharing it with anyone outside the Inner Circle is forbidden and if confronted on any detail, we will resort to stout denial. There, that should be good enough to be getting on with.

Soon after beginning today's post, I was in the middle of a sentence, looking for the next right word to follow the one I'd just committed to the screen. I don't need to remind you, I'm sure, that the Genome is rigorously honest in describing the fragments of reality that exist in the dimensions that he frequents. Each word in a sentence is given careful consideration to ensure that it's the best choice for clarity, simplicity, and precision.

The word I'd chosen for that particular sentence was, seque. I'll say it again to make sure there's no misunderstanding. Seque was the word; meaning a smooth transition from one topic to the next. As soon as I typed the word it was underlined in red with the warning, "Unknown word." I was surprised not a little. After all, it's not an unusual or rare word.

After completing the sentence, I read it aloud to evaluate the cadence because rhythm is of vital importance. Without the appropriate rhythm, a sentence is dead. Having approved the sound of it, I thought it best to follow up on that redlined warning. I'm not above misusing a word now and again. I certainly don't make a habit of it. 

And so, having decided that a little research was in order, I did what any right-thinking writer would do; I Googled it. I owed it to my public to make sure the word was the mot juste, as Bertie Wooster would say.

Good old Google returned a pageful of hits, as usual, but one URL, in particular, caught my eye. And here's what it said in the preview:

What does seque mean? - Definitions.net

seque. Here are all the possible meanings and translations of the word seque. Did you actually mean segue or sequoia?

Well, I was non-plussed, and I mean like the dickens. I'm sure you understand my concern. Here was a reputable website, at least I assumed it was reputable; I mean it was near the top of the hit list. And this dependable website had evaluated my choice of words and questioned the appropriate use. It had gone so far as to suggest that another word might be a better choice. But how the hell was I to choose between the two. Seque or sequoia? You tell me. If I'd misunderstood the exact meaning of seque, how the hell was I supposed to evaluate sequoia?

I'm still stumped. This knot is Gordian as all get out. It's a conundrum of Ouroboros proportions. You remember Ouroboros; the serpent that eats its own tail? Don't I have enough challenges trying to be a prolific blogger? I mean depression, anxiety, shiny objects, and all that. Now I have to deal with the failure of Google. It just goes to show that I'm on to something when I say that the world just doesn't work anymore. 

And now I'm sure you understand why I began this post as I did. Sometimes the only way to deal with the vicissitudes of life--is it vicissitudes? I don't know. The short of what I'm trying to say is some days you just have to muddle through the best you can and don't fret it. Activate the stubborn gene and keep moving forward. Fierce Qigong! 

P.S. I had to look up vicissitudes; Googled it and was relieved to learn that it means a change of circumstances or fortune, typically ones that are unwelcome or unpleasant. You can say that again, Google!

Like A Rock

My brain is trying to gaslight me. I think Princess Amy wants me dead and is trying to distract me with a hullabaloo of insanity, the easier to make me step in front of the number 14 bus.

Not going to happen, Universe, or whatever your real name is. I developed Fierce Qigong and I know how to use it. When I was six and the schoolyard bully would humiliate me by trying to force me to eat pine straw in front of our schoolmates, I stubbornly refused.  I will not eat pine needles, I told myself. (We called them needles instead of straw.) 

My Rock

I didn't eat pine needles then and I have no plans to begin now.

Much later in high school, I was introduced to the poem that Dylan Thomas wrote for his dying father, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night: 

"Do not go gentle into that good night; 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light." 

Although Dylan was specifically writing about death, I've embraced the message of the poem and applied it to those thousands of little deaths that confront me.

Fierce Qigong is the bundle of practices and principles that grew out of the stubborn refusal to eat pine needles, and my tendency to rage, rage against my feeling of powerlessness in the face of life's inevitable difficulties.

Now, if you're a member of the community here on The Circular Journey, you should brace yourself because I'm going to reference sacred scripture in the next few paragraphs. I know! Who'd a thought it? Don't reach for the remote just yet, the payoff is colossal. You're going to love it.

In his 18th Psalm, the psalmist tells us:

"...my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge."

And now, thanks to a spiritual awakening on my morning walk, I have a new ally. I finally have what Alcoholics Anonymous calls a higher power and what many of you call God. Yes! I have my Rock! And here comes the punchline, just like David, if that's his real name, I too take refuge in my Rock, my higher power. Selah.

I've known this particular rock since I first moved to the coast over a year ago. Every morning I come to Brunswick Forest for a walk in the pines and every morning this rock meets me here, to remind me, despite what the Buddha claimed, that there are constants in this funny old world, a few things that can be relied upon to remain true.

It's a theme that pops up throughout the first half of the bible. In Deuteronomy 32:4 we read, "He is the Rock, his works are perfect and all his ways are just."  Again in 1 Samuel 2:2 we're told, "There is no Rock like our God."

Perhaps because of this scriptural influence, or perhaps simply due to an intuitive awareness of the spirit of Rock, it seems universally recognized by humans that rocks are one of the few strong, enduring elements of our world. I assume it goes far back into prehistory when rock was a necessary material for tools and weapons. People depended on rock for their very lives.

And now you see why my Rock has become my higher power. I need that solid, constant, power to keep me grounded and supported. I'm happy about this new revelation. I think it's the perfect partnership because "his works are perfect and all his ways are just."

Do I plan to start a new religion? No. One religion is as bad as another. No reason to think that I can do better. I'll simply think of my practice as the Way of the Rock. It'll be my shamanic practice. Ha! I'm a shaman now! I'll incorporate the Way of the Rock into Fierce Qigong!

If you'd like to join me in the Way of the Rock, then follow the updates that appear here on The Circular Journey. Until then, here are a few ideas that I think are suitable for a beginning. From Bob Seger's song, Like A Rock:

"Like a rock, I was strong as I could be, nothin' ever got to me...chargin' from the gate, carryin' the weight...hard against the wind, I see myself again. Like a Rock."

Those words describe beautifully the stubborn resolve that has always characterized Fierce Qigong and now provide a springboard for the Way of the Rock. Ain't Life marvelous?

I want to express my appreciation to Paul Simon for his song and the title of this blog post. If you know the song, sing it! If you don't know the words, find the song and play it! That song is another rock of mine. I have lots of rocks. Drop in sometime and let my show you my rock collection.

Back to Jackson

Before we begin, I want you to know that you'll need to suspend disbelief again because this post, on merit alone, is completely unbelievable. But I know that you know that I'd never mislead my community. That said, enjoy the ride, and don't be throwing anything out the window.

This morning on my way to Brunswick Forest for my daily constitutional, I detoured to Port City Java for a cup of the needful. Entering the drive-thru, I turned the volume down on the satellite radio just as Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood began singing Jackson.

That song has been recorded by many artists since it was first composed by Billy Edd Wheeler and Jerry Leiber in 1963. I'm most familiar with the pop hit by Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood, which went to number 14 on the Billboard Hot 100. 

Jackson was playing on the satellite radio in my car as we entered the drive-thru lane at Port City Java. We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout, is the way the song begins. You may be familiar with it too. I turned the volume down to place my order and when I turned it up again, the song had ended and the disc-jockey was talking about Jackson, the town, not the song.

What the digital-vinyl spinner actually said is lost to me now but in essence, he said, "It's 75 degrees in Jackson, Tennessee, today, home of my good friend Wink Martindale."

Now in the song, the location of Jackson is never specified but, from the first time I heard it, I assumed Jackson, Mississippi, and that's been my assumption ever since. I don't know why. Does that make me a bad Tennessean?

I wondered if the disc jockey had segued from Jackson, MS, into Jackson, TN, while I had the volume turned down. Later, I learned that the songwriters didn't have a specific Jackson in mind but somehow the song has become associated with Jackson, Tennessee. I never knew.

In a minute or two, I was in the pine grove at Brunswick Forest and was listening to the same radio station but on my phone app. The app was not playing the "live" program because I'd chosen to run it back to an earlier point, so as not to miss anything. In another few minutes, Jackson began playing once more. I paid close attention to the end of the song to hear everything Plash said about Jackson. Plash is the morning host of 60's Gold on SiriusXM.

I heard him right the first time. Now I began to wonder why I'd always assumed Jackson. But that's not the subject of this post. I apologize for allowing myself to drift onto the shoulder again. But don't you worry, I'm safely back on the road again now.

I was nearing the end of my walk when I noticed something dark and wet near the bank. I used the word "bank" here to mean the shoreline of the lake. You may not use that word so I thought it best to explain. Sounded like I was referring to a financial institution, even to me.

As I say, nearing the end of my walk I saw something dark and wet on a large rock near the shoreline. Large turtle, I wondered. Alligator? It started me thinking of cryptids, a favorite subject of mine. You probably remember the Creature of Lake Jordan. If not, search this blog for those keywords. I recommend it highly but don't read it at bedtime.

The dark, wet cryptid turned out to be a gathering of turtles. What is a gathering of turtles called? The word you're looking for is bale. That's right. I don't know why.

I didn't want to disturb their basking. I don't like it when anyone disturbs mine and I believe in Do Unto Others. That's right, turtles have inalienable rights too. For that matter, so do cryptids.

Oh, look it up, for heaven's sake.

And so, getting to the point, I wanted a photo and began messing with my phone camera. No luck. I was too far away but I did manage to fat-finger my phone. Please, you know what fat-fingering is, right? It's when you intend to push that button but push a different button instead. I fat-finger my phone's functions all the time and get unintended results. It'll get me in trouble one day but since I'm in trouble every day. Why worry?

The unintended result I got there on the shore of the lake was that my SiriusXM app began playing a station I'd never listened to before. And the song that was playing...can you guess? That's right! You're quick. Jackson was playing but it was coming to an end. And then the guess host of this morning's program said, "Jackson! It's a great place."

Wow! The Jackson motif again. But that's not all. The guest host who played the song and spoke those words was Nancy Sinatra! I know! You're beginning to question this story now, aren't you? I don't blame you. Told you it was unbelievable. But it's true!

It doesn't end here. 

On my way home, thinking about the Jackson mystery, I stopped at my favorite thrift store. You remember my love for thrifting and the recent Soul Merchant thing. Inside the store, I felt drawn to the hard goods aisle, and browsing the shelves with nothing specific, my attention was suddenly attracted to a small figurine. 

The little woodpecker was wearing overalls and had a hammer in one hand. He seemed to be working as a carpenter. His bill was run through a small piece of wood. Whimsical. Made me smile. I remember thinking, If ever there was a soul vessel, this woodpecker would be one. 

Don't change channels just yet. We're still talking about Jackson and this part is the best part.

Well, I bought the little woodpecker, whose name is Woodrow according to the plaque. I thought I'd do a little research just to know what I'd purchased. I wondered if it was vintage, where it was made, that sort of thing. It didn't take long because all I needed to know was on the bottom.

Turns out to be a limited edition, hand-painted, little tchotchke. The name of the piece is "Experiencing Technical Difficulties." It's cute and I'll keep it on my desk to brighten my day when I'm feeling down. But the punchline to this entire post is this:

The original sales sticker from the store that sold it is on the bottom too. It reads,

Jackson Cards and Plants (a former business in Jackson, Tennessee)

I know! Right? And that's not all. It's only lunchtime as I write this and I'm sure there's going to be more of this Jackson motif in the afternoon. It just goes to show once more that Shakespeare had it right all along:

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. ~~ Hamlet

And that goes for cryptids too. I'm going to find the Creature of the Brunswick Lagoons. You just wait for that post.