Saturday Morning

This audio dance

As I sit this Saturday

My ears rejoicing

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Lessons I Learned About Deserts This Winter

Seattle’s winter taught me something new: deserts hate me. In the deepest cold of February, as the upper left coast shivered in a frigid, deeply embrace, my skin burned. Cracking, peeling, bleeding, the lack of moisture in the air brutalized me. Far more painful that I remember.

Over the years I dreamt of journeys through the Southwest. Wandering the desert canyons, a soundtrack featuring R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps tied to a writer’s retreat, I explore the zen within the arid land. Tranquility filling my soul.

Now I fear my skin crumbling off my bones. Needing to bathe in moisturizer. Not the most pleasant imagery.

Perhaps my mind exaggerates. It often plays such tricks on me. The dream still lingers. No harm, I guess, in holding that. Maybe the tranquility compensates for the damaged skin.

Such randomness within in my mind.

Unfamiliar with R. Carlos Nakai’s music? His native flute music carries me deep within, speaking to my depths.

 

LISTENING To Music 

As youth I chose
To deeply explore music
Each word critical 

Music is critical to me. For my teenage years, I focused my study there. Well, as best as I could focus at that age. Music means so very much to me. Understanding the way lyrics, melody and harmony intersect for the good of the story carried great value. 

I seek to recapture that. Spent some time this morning enjoying it again. Until life’s demands intruded. Soon, I’ll return. These delights critical to my soul.