Tilted Fences

https://www.flickr.com/photos/134497821@N07/22772611753/

I’m on the road as this post reaches you. Every once in a while life conspires to provide me a bit of time and inclination to write in advance. Today (yesterday for you) is one of those times. Today’s photo comes from last spring-summer when I did some necessary repairs to my fence because a neighbour backed into it, tilting the fence. She’s a great lady and the damage was just in alignment, not in broken boards or posts, so no hard feelings or anger made an appearance. I was fortunate that I could do the work while nude – just one of those times when life opens doors.

Fences are boundary markers. We use them to provide a safe container for ourselves where we can better express our individual natures. Fences are also prisons behind which we hide, or which keep us contained and out of the view and interaction with others. When we look closer at fences, we see that they not only provide us with a safe space, they also at the same time, imprison us. It’s never and either or situation.

Of course, it isn’t just about fences. We build all kinds of barriers between ourselves and the world, ourselves and others. The first impulse is always about personal safety and survival – keeping dangerous people and dangerous animals and dangerous environmental conditions from hurting us. Yet, no sooner do we build a safe container, we find ourselves prisoners within the safe container.

All that said, the world demands too much of us, threatens us too much to simply leave ourselves fully vulnerable with no safe space or place within which we can retreat. Finding a balance between the extremes is what we need to focus on, consciously, so that we don’t “tilt.”

Tilted Fences

https://www.flickr.com/photos/134497821@N07/22772611753/

I’m on the road as this post reaches you. Every once in a while life conspires to provide me a bit of time and inclination to write in advance. Today (yesterday for you) is one of those times. Today’s photo comes from last spring-summer when I did some necessary repairs to my fence because a neighbour backed into it, tilting the fence. She’s a great lady and the damage was just in alignment, not in broken boards or posts, so no hard feelings or anger made an appearance. I was fortunate that I could do the work while nude – just one of those times when life opens doors.

Fences are boundary markers. We use them to provide a safe container for ourselves where we can better express our individual natures. Fences are also prisons behind which we hide, or which keep us contained and out of the view and interaction with others. When we look closer at fences, we see that they not only provide us with a safe space, they also at the same time, imprison us. It’s never and either or situation.

Of course, it isn’t just about fences. We build all kinds of barriers between ourselves and the world, ourselves and others. The first impulse is always about personal safety and survival – keeping dangerous people and dangerous animals and dangerous environmental conditions from hurting us. Yet, no sooner do we build a safe container, we find ourselves prisoners within the safe container.

All that said, the world demands too much of us, threatens us too much to simply leave ourselves fully vulnerable with no safe space or place within which we can retreat. Finding a balance between the extremes is what we need to focus on, consciously, so that we don’t “tilt.”

Football Frenzy

https://www.flickr.com/photos/134497821@N07/23377191555/

It’s football time in North Dakota. The game is televised though played outdoors at the eastern edge of the Canadian prairies. With temperatures expected to hover around -6 C, it will be a coldish experience for spectators and just about right for the players. Here in the house, a collection of finger foods and beverages that are kid-friendly will be setting the scene for an enjoyable evening of Championship football.

Tomorrow we head home, leaving at six in the morning. It’s a long eleven hours of driving to reach our home on the Canadian prairies. I doubt that there will be a post tomorrow, but you never know.

Sensory Overload

Sometimes it is too busy, too stimulating, too overwhelming when you are an introvert surrounded by a busy bunch of boys and extroverted adults. Welcome to my world when I visit my family here in the U.S.A. Somehow, I can hang in there playing various basketball games, football, and soccer games outside followed by endless card games and board games where the volume seems to go above legal allowable limits until some youngster storms off in a huff because he is losing to a sibling. Perhaps it is the fact that it is a four-day weekend with no quiet spaces that would be places of refuge that accents the fact of sensory overload.  Even taking a few moments to put up this meagre blog post is being done while the action swirls around me with expectation that I engage in side conversations. Being an introvert is often like being thrown into the “hole” in prison (solitary confinement) for a social butterfly. It is the best route to take if one is invested in becoming zombie-like. Yet, I love the swirling mass of sound, movement, smells and buffeting that is the status quo when visiting my grandsons.

There are no spaces or times for simply shedding my clothing and meditating in silence, for breathing and being able to hear and feel each breath. Being able to look to a place in time just days down the road tells me that I will have that time in abundance. I will wander the whole house, perhaps even into my yard without the need to “cover-up.”

Regrets? No, I am simply stating that life is bumpy and one may as well buckle up and enjoy the ride through the quite doldrums and the hair-raising action.

Sensory Overload

Sometimes it is too busy, too stimulating, too overwhelming when you are an introvert surrounded by a busy bunch of boys and extroverted adults. Welcome to my world when I visit my family here in the U.S.A. Somehow, I can hang in there playing various basketball games, football, and soccer games outside followed by endless card games and board games where the volume seems to go above legal allowable limits until some youngster storms off in a huff because he is losing to a sibling. Perhaps it is the fact that it is a four-day weekend with no quiet spaces that would be places of refuge that accents the fact of sensory overload.  Even taking a few moments to put up this meagre blog post is being done while the action swirls around me with expectation that I engage in side conversations. Being an introvert is often like being thrown into the “hole” in prison (solitary confinement) for a social butterfly. It is the best route to take if one is invested in becoming zombie-like. Yet, I love the swirling mass of sound, movement, smells and buffeting that is the status quo when visiting my grandsons.

There are no spaces or times for simply shedding my clothing and meditating in silence, for breathing and being able to hear and feel each breath. Being able to look to a place in time just days down the road tells me that I will have that time in abundance. I will wander the whole house, perhaps even into my yard without the need to “cover-up.”

Regrets? No, I am simply stating that life is bumpy and one may as well buckle up and enjoy the ride through the quite doldrums and the hair-raising action.

Winter Sky on the Prairies

DSC05433 (2) (640x160)

This was the scene from my window back home in Canada. Of course I took the photo while skyclad, if one can be skyclad in the house. Thanksgiving Day is done and now it is Black Friday, a day we are staying in the house away from all the insanity that comes with fighting crowds for “deals” on stuff we would never buy anyway. The reason for this photo is more of an experiment than it is of intent to wax philosophical or psychological about the image. I am adding the image as a URL link because for whatever reason, I can’t upload images to my blog site from the computer at my daughter’s house. I can, however, upload an image to my Flickr account. This could mean a rethinking of how images will be posted and stored for the blog site from now on. More experimentation is to be done with images in the future.

Now, back to this image, it is one that I was satisfied with in terms of how, even in winter, perhaps best in winter, we find the heat, the energy to do the work of rummaging around in our inner spaces, those darkish zones where we have a tendency to get lost, to lose hope, to wallow in a despairing sadness. The colours are there for light, life, and warmth, but the image contradicts this expectation and hope. It definitely is a scene that doesn’t invite one to take off the clothes and wander like a free spirit through nature, through the quiet streets of town.

Winter Sky on the Prairies

DSC05433 (2) (640x160)

This was the scene from my window back home in Canada. Of course I took the photo while skyclad, if one can be skyclad in the house. Thanksgiving Day is done and now it is Black Friday, a day we are staying in the house away from all the insanity that comes with fighting crowds for “deals” on stuff we would never buy anyway. The reason for this photo is more of an experiment than it is of intent to wax philosophical or psychological about the image. I am adding the image as a URL link because for whatever reason, I can’t upload images to my blog site from the computer at my daughter’s house. I can, however, upload an image to my Flickr account. This could mean a rethinking of how images will be posted and stored for the blog site from now on. More experimentation is to be done with images in the future.

Now, back to this image, it is one that I was satisfied with in terms of how, even in winter, perhaps best in winter, we find the heat, the energy to do the work of rummaging around in our inner spaces, those darkish zones where we have a tendency to get lost, to lose hope, to wallow in a despairing sadness. The colours are there for light, life, and warmth, but the image contradicts this expectation and hope. It definitely is a scene that doesn’t invite one to take off the clothes and wander like a free spirit through nature, through the quiet streets of town.