Magical Leapness

Change in character

Change in personality

No restraints

No guidance

No governor

When do I stop?

When do I start?

Who am I?

If I was searching, discovering then

Imagine now!

Emotions charged.

Emergence of a new character

A new personality

A new me.

Ring feels heavy

Heavy with reminders

Heavy with death

Heavy with nothingness

Time to go

Time to take off

Leap-day with a friend

Thelma and Louise

Geocaching the geocachers

Then I need to geocache peace of mind

Peace of spirit

Need a ceremony

Comical ceremony of time-worn friction

Tears turn to laughter

Laughter turns to freedom

The ring finally yields to the tugs and pulls

Now there's freedom from this scab

I no longer want to pick

Trust my intuition

Intuition Chakra is wide open

Guiding me.

Intuition says do it with a friend first,

Someone I can be myself.

I climb with a friend

We laugh, we converse, we grieve

Then I find I'm peeved

“Charley, damn you! You caused me so much grief!”

Causes a laugh at the multiple meanings of the statement, the ambiguity.

Life is a ping-pong ball

Bounce around, don't get upset.

Sometimes we hit the ceiling, wall, or floor.

The trick is to keep bouncing.

Don't worry.

Don't worry.

Keep bouncing.

I bounce into the scheduled, long awaited task

To disperse most of the remaining corporeal cells to the earth, sky, water

To further not pick at the scab

Well-intentioned efforts turn anticlimactic

Expectations beyond product

Whatever,

It's done, it's over.

Keep bouncing

Don't worry.

All say how great it is that I don't vegetate

All say how wonderful I move

How wonderful I keep going

How wonderful I keep traveling

Traveling in this new world of mine

Traveling with my new mind

Traveling with new sight

Traveling with a new me

When do I say start?

When do I say stop?

Emotions run rampant

Bouncing in this new world

With this new sight.

Don't worry.

Don't worry.

Keep bouncing.

Magical leapness

Changing character

Changing me

Changing world

Changing perception

Trust my intuition

I know when to start

I know when to stop

Emotions run rampant

Don't worry

Don't worry

Keep bouncing

Magical leapness

Charley goes to Burning Man produced by Jeryl Marcus

It's a war! No, it's the 4th of July!

Happy birthday America!
It's a war! It's a war! No, wait, it's only the 4th.



Ever since I was a kid, I used to love the 4th of July. Notice that I used past tense. So sit back and I'll give you a little history lesson. I moved outside the city limits with Charley and since people couldn't shoot fireworks off in the city, they would drive to the outskirts to buy from the multitude of temporary stands and then proceed to shoot their hard-earned money into the sky. In those days there weren't many people living this far out of the city. Everyone would go a little crazy like our dog, Moksha who would try and chase down the firecrackers and bite them. He would get so wild that we would have to lock him up in a room without windows until the whole event was over. But, every year we'd pull up chairs, sometimes invite friends over and have a cookout, buy the kids a small amount of fireworks (with our hard-earned money) and sit back and enjoy the madness.

But then things changed. Each year the crowds got bigger and bigger. Now there is so many cars that they create an actual traffic jam where cars creep along the freeway waiting to exit the ramp. People are no longer are just parking along the access roads of the interstate to have their little party, but driving up and parking next to our home with total disregard to our territory. They don't shoot fireworks off at their house, so they drive to mine to have their party.


When the huge crowd began to invade, the fun of the 4th began to leave me. My poor donkey, Murphy, would run around the property trying to escape the invasion of the insane. He understood that it was war. Then came the year of a drought. The crowds of people gathered as usual shooting off fireworks wherever there was a bare spot between the greasewood and the mesquite bushes with a complete disregard and disrespect for homes they parked themselves amidst. Fires started. We didn't have time to watch the fireworks that night, we were chasing little fires set in the desert surrounding our home with buckets of water in hand. We finally went to bed around midnight, then our neighbor called and said there was a fire on the other side of our house. Sure enough, a bush caught on fire. People had already jumped our eight-foot fence and were trying to put it out. Together, we smothered the flames out. Turns out that even though it was dry enough to catch the desert on fire, it wasn't dry enough for the laws of Texas. Of course, most of Texas is not a desert, but the southwestern tip is. But who cares about the southwestern tip?


But now, let's talk about the aftermath. When everyone who came to the outskirts of town has had their little party and burned all their blasting purchases leaves, do they pick up after themselves like good citizens of an ideal community? You got to be kidding yourself if you think they do. Beer bottles, cans, food wrappers, and remnants of fireworks casings remain in the wake of the celebratory war. The county does hire a clean-up crew who come out and clean most of the crap along the interstate, but the side roads are left to be cleaned by the local inhabitants, like us.


Then for ten years we were cycling during the summer months and were not at home. While we didn't see what was going on, but in the back of my mind, I always wondered if my home would be burned down in my absence. Even on the road, we would find a locale to stay put for a few days. Drunk drivers and cyclists are not a good mix. I did not want become a new test for the inebriated. Last year we retired and we no longer have to cycle-tour during the heat-stroke months of summer and have been home during the onslaught of celebrators. Last night we stayed in and just listened to the loud explosions of the assault outside. This year we are lucky, the monsoon rains started early and the desert was damp. No fires were started.


But I ask you, "Are all these people celebrating the birth of our wonderful, free nation or do they just see an opportunity to blow up things, drink, and have a party?" From my perspective, I am more inclined to agree with Murphy, it's an invasion and a war and no longer a celebration.