A thing I do not know how to do

Sloth and Manatee

Sometimes life resembles the downhill skiing events in the Olympics. There’s this big hill, and there’s slippery ice and snow and rocks and stuff. You stand on these long skinny things, point them down the hill, and down you zoom at high speed and barely under control through a bunch of gates. By the time you reach a gate, you are already through it, and on you race to the next one and the next, in a blur.

The gates are like life events, some of which you plan for or dream about, but most of which you may not have known were there, or imagined existed, or even seen at all, before you have zoomed on through, and there you are, still flying down this slippery surface, going, “what the hell just happened?” And, “what the hell is this next thing?” Oh, it’s already passed. You went through that gate.

Anybody who spends any amount of time on this planet will go through the type of gates that cause you to say, “I did not sign up for this.” There seem to be a lot of those strewn around. But nevertheless down you go, and through the gates, and now you are on the other side, and off you zoom again.

I guess what we have to do is, make careening down a snowy slope into a process of creation and becoming, and allow space for what is going on, and give thanks when we can (sometimes this is very hard), and let the whole living breathing thing do its thing. At high speed while flying along over ice and snow and rocks.

Sloth and Manatee Page

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Print Shop

Art!

I need you to see this drawing one of my kids made of his friend, who he said he gave “infinite dollars” and also “made him VIP.” That’s a good friend.

Things Of The Week

Wanna hang out with other people in the form of a cursor cruising around in a goofy camp setting?

Wanna play xylophone? (Hint: the number keys work in addition to the mouse)

Oh heck there’s a livecam of the sled dog puppies being raised in Denali. Oh, heck.

Okay! That's enough nonsense for now.

May you see things coming before they hit you in the face, may your skis stay under you, won't you be my neighbor? - Betsy