to(dis)day, to day

  🤔 confused,  wondering, unsure, trying-to-see-a-way-forward, confused,  lost-in-thought, thoughtful, know-something-but not everything, learning a new way of seeing things The Walkerian Sonnet: iambic pentameter, 14 lines, an organization & rhyme scheme: opening- ABBA, playing around with it - CDDC, other options - EFFE, a decision - GG. I’m not so sure, but I’ll give it some thought. It’s difficult sometimes to put in words. But I’ll give it a go. See if you’ve heard something like it, or seen one someone bought. Sometimes I am left wondering myself, I feel a bit confused, at least unsure. But in that space, I learn to not need more,  & yet some things appear, as though an elf or Muse was playing with me, ope’ning up to more dimensions round me, my mind here. Sometimes it’s just the words, though it appears at other times forgetfulness erupts! I’ll settle for the cloud ’v “unknowingness”; that might let new dimensions through - less stress!

(to gether!) And OMG! I’m sharing life  with you. I don’t have to be capable at all. I started as one tiny cell... A few... Then hundreds..., & now trillions* - not so small! And you’ve been trying to help me grow up, to learn to care for this big lump of cells.  That's even when I “act up”, interrupt. There are folk who give me their life. It smells like perfume when they just absorb my shite, and give to me more goods than I give out. They’re acting then in line with what I might call plain ol’ goodness, and  it’s good , no doubt! That view of what’s responsible (not shame) which I agree with, ’coz it has more faith- -full-ness than just a rule applied the same: “ we’re more responsible, the more we take ”. So then, the more I've done - of life with you, the more chance I will have to grow and thrive. & I am then responsible to do more with, the more I'm gi'en. Not just survive- al strategy, to not have expecta- -tions placed on me by ev’ry one around. It mig...

(Slow & curious) The week that I was “gone” to Brisbane town, to say “Goodbye” to my wife’s mother there, who passed from this life here on Earth that’s down below the metaphorical  we shared. We used the trip to see fam. - on the way. Da stay with some, and to recall some tales, to clean up rooms in house we used to stay in with her. So my memory  “inhales”. I thank her for her mothering of my own wife, who is the best gift I've received, since I was given what is called my “life”. We hadn’t always quite seen or believed the same about the most important things, yet she was growing kinder - her last days she got to be more grateful. Each one brings us goodness wrapped in very diff’rent ways. And I want to grow as that lady did, to notice goodness, and express in words somehow appreciation that gets hid unless we speak it - so some  folk 'll have heard something that helps them look through, to its birth, and see the ways that mediators worked to make more goodness co...

get-together Oh, spirit of love, please bless all these folk as they meet, and they greet, and they listen to what you've to say, & smile at each joke that their Dad has with them, as gold glistens. 

Meter: Iambic Pentameter Rhyming: ABAB Well, Thomas was the first to come today  & Miss came next, but feeling dose to death,  and when the bell had gone, then Tyler came  and followed closely - Harrison & Seth. When Logan came the door was firmly locked but Charmaine opened it & let him in. When Mr. Walker came he never knocked.  Then Tyren came in - with a cheeky grin. And, here we were & watched the Poa tree  & sat beneath its shade, & thought a bit  about old Will, whose spelling was quite free,  who made up sonnets so their metre fit. (Composed by Mr. Walker and the class present for English on 18/8/26)

(ways to be in a class of our own) Our class, I'm sure does not mean we’re “well-bred”, and classy, ‘coz we’ve been all well trained too, and know the ones to speak too, turn our head towards and who we really should not do the honour to give them the time of day, if they were, in the street, to stop and ask the time, ‘coz watch on wrist, and mouth could say. And do all folk require we wear a mask if we are sick (& tired) of life around, must we then cover up our mouth for their sake? Are we not of class enough to’ve found or think we needn’t learn, or to beware of doing something which we mightn’t want to do just then, because we’d rather do another thing, or use a diff’rent font. And do they really know our class? And who - - it is that they are speaking to just now? To think I might’ve come across like this. I’m sorry if my face or just my brow led me to overlook, or be ’na tizz. So, taking us as one class - in a school, not on a high fellutant kind of stage, I think that we...

- the aire that we breathe - (A great Leader-teacher who I get to spend time with quietly, who pops in and out) My teacher, mentor, head, you are a boss at anything you do, put your hand to, I love to work beside you,  see your heart for helping out, not caring ‘bout your loss, much more about their gain, what’ll really do the trick, in the long run - not just the Start. You back your word, to your own grief and pain. You let your light shine out so bright and strong, ‘n heavens above, as  models can help teach they show how light goes on, but then a-gain when lifted up above, our eyes see long, and understanding seems to get more reach till when combined with other gifts you let grow in us and help us to keep, by use, say mem-or-y - by it we keep the views we gained from vantage point we often get from up above, the “model” that includes relationships (not seen in local news) which can hold “much more” meaning for our job of overseeing ecosystems here. Your teaching of me, is...

Mate, I've got a runny nose and cough that knocks me out if I talk or go into cool air. I think I should not join you for coffee in the morning. Oh God! Please help this mate with building stuff. Give wisdom as they choose what properties to do what to, & timing in the tough decisions, to just trust with childlike ease. While thinking, planning, as he's wont to do, and often joining in complexities, of understanding markets, and those who need help, and ways to join with your fire-breeze...

I experience this world as more than dead.. I know that I feel cold that's bracing, well on head and shoulders, yet there's warmth in bed - that isn’t in the body of ol’ Dell. Her body lies in fune’ral parlour fridge in Brisbane, where her girl and grandson said they visited her yes-ter-day and squidged  her hair still pinned out of her eyes - for bed. There’s something I perceive (with eyes of mind, or heart - the part that speaks and feels and “ means ”) that isn’t understood by dust , I find. I think dust  can’t;  it's folk must  ‘dys-’ all dreams and longings , and commitments , friendship , hate … Reductionists. They start defining them as simply artifacts of a whole spate of “concrete” chemicals and forces when they walked behind a mirror in their world, and found no space to live a 3D life. The two dimensions they allowed were curled  inside a silver-lined glass sheet. No strife..  seems in that world - where no-one ‘lives’ at all. Just molecules ...

  to day I’m thinking of our class today at school, since I’m so lucky with these people here. We’ve got a lot of skills at using tools and also at befriending who comes near. We could be covering each others’ backs and helping other people in our class but sometimes we feel scared of all our “lacks” and what we’re not so good at, we let pass… We could be working hard to get stuff done and helping our whole class to think, and see, and understand this life under the sun till we become what people know as “free”.. to live and act, instead of quite enslaved to how we’re feeling, and what we desire. The kind of folk who often have behaved against their feelings, ’coz of things much higher all carried to us by our culture through the people who are sent by what’s unknown to us, to help us become humans who are able to grow bigger than what’s shown by light & sound to those around who see the same things that we see - the surface stuff that sometimes is quite hard to see though. We...

  Two handed..(10 fingers) Assuming all the gods which culture gave  him, as with walking , language , dress code, and his sense of humour , honour , kind of whim allowable , technologies that stand (because their secrets - held in guilds of trust - are too complex to master in one life, and yet can be bequeathed, as well they must, to individuals, husband or wife). Where can a man, or woman, go from there?  What options would he have? And how could she work well within the confines she has where she finds herself? And though the options be with diff’rent clothing, and maybe approach, at heart they’re sim-i-lar (& complement).  For humans aren’t one part; both horse and coach both oars and sails together get ships sent..   It's not our place to see the way to take. It is our place to take each step we make On seeing all our inconsistencies to choose against confusing drugs of ease, recalling and confronting our own hell  that we have brought into thi...