Mumble Jumble from my Cluttered Brain

Gene Autry

I think too much. But who doesn’t? Okay, I imagine a few hands just went up in the air. Ya, I know, over-thinking things can be a curse. And I admire those among us who can “ommmm” their way into emptying out their heads. For me, mediation is akin to sticking your head in a washing machine and spinning the unwanted thoughts out like water in wet clothing; the process is hard and out-weighs the results.

My first introduction to mediation was back in the ‘60s when I bought a book by Marharishi Mahesh Yogi titled, Transcendental Meditation, Serenity Without Drugs. He was an Indian guru who is credited with bringing Transcendental Meditation to the West. At least that’s what his Wikipedia page says but we all know that sometimes the information on those pages needs to taken with a grain of salt. I’m not saying he didn’t do that, I just don’t know and I’m too lazy to dig deeper. I like to think our Native Americans practiced mediation first on this continent in the form of puffing and passing a pipe loaded with barks, berries, herbs and other plant materials. I like to think they were able to empty their minds of I everything but the fellowship of those who were smoking the pipe with them. But what “I like to think” doesn't make it so and it doesn't line up with what I saw in the old western double features I saw on the Saturdays afternoons of my youth. With the exception of Tonto the faithful partner to the Lone Ranger, Native American Indians were portrayed in, shall we say, less than peace seeking ways.  

I’m in a nostalgic mood regarding those old westerns. I recently sold the Gene Autry, side loading cap shooter that I slept with under my pillow when I was a kid. I don’t remember if I thought my brother would take it in the dead of night or if I thought bad guys were coming after me and I wanted to be ready. I just know Gene was my very first crush and after all the radio and TV mail-after premiums that I’ve recently sold out of my showcase the gun and the holster were surprisingly easy to let go of. Gene may have been my first 'cowboy' crush but he wasn’t the last and I still have one of my husband’s Stetson cowboy hats sitting on top of my bookcase to prove it. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll sell it on e-Bay. Probably not. I only got fifty bucks for his other hat and that one had its original box. It was an official NRA edition Stetson so I was glad to see that leave the house. My husband was a life member but he had a falling out with the organization back when the NRA fought so hard against The Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act back in the early 1990s and he never wore the hat after that.

And I still have Marharishi’s book sitting on my bookshelf. It made the cut when the Great Purge emptied hundreds of books out of my library. Someday I might actually finish reading it. It sits in a two foot section in what I’ve dubbed my Spirit Section with titles like: Women in World Religions, Modern Man in Search of a Soul, Conversations with God, Aristotle Would have Liked Oprah, Working on God, An Idiot's Guide to Philosophy and The Gook Book, the Humanist Bible---books that I have actually read cover to cover. After I move I doubt any of my new neighbors will be asking to borrow books from my shelves---I’ve saved very little fiction and lots of art, how-to write and reference books---but just in case I need to have an answer other than ”Hell No!” ready to say that means the same thing. Call me selfish but borrowed books rarely get returned and all the titles I’m moving with me cut to the chase of who I want to be. Or more precisely who I want people to think I am. If you're thinking that's weird, is it any different than having a carefully selected wardrobe that projects a certain image? Answer: No, it isn’t. Case closed.

Starting in February the construction company building the Continuing Care Campus where I have a unit being held with a hefty deposit is putting out a monthly newsletter to keep us all informed on the progress. I got the first issue and it contained lots of photos. Not that you can actually see anything taking shape yet because they’re putting underground storm and water infrastructure in now after having hauled away thousands of tons of top soil. By the end of the month we should be able to see where the road and the foundations of the buildings will be. It looks like they cut down 2/3 of the trees that actually attracted me to the place in the first place but we’ve been assured they will be planting lots of new ones later on and the indigenous plants on the property that were moved by horticultural students will be brought back for the bees and butterfly garden that will be my main view. I don’t know if this is common practice on large building projects to put out a monthly update but it’s a cool idea and was a professional looking newsletter. I need all the reminders I can get of why I need to keep myself on track to be ready for the move. I’m looking forward to the day when I’ll find myself sitting on a bench surrounded by wildflowers “ommmming” my mind to a less cluttered place. Na, I’ll be sitting there with my brand new iPad blogging my brains out until you’re all sick of reading about butterflies and unicorns and the Blue Heron fishing on the shore of the near-by lake. ©