Why read why blog why read blogs

What do people want to read when they read blogs? Not that I think too much about that when I’m writing. More like what I DON’T want you to hear than anything I might want to announce to the whole crazy world, when the fact is, most people are not listening anyway. I was perusing the blogs and was amazed at some, totally bored with others, and educated by a few. Guys with guns claiming to be Christian libertarian conservatives geez, moms with babies, please! Bible sales and wow people sell stuff on blogs. One written by an American in Palestine, a Malaysian far from home, cancer survivors, more babies, ok the family blogs are cute, more selling shit… and more. People sure have stuff to say. What does that say about me? I think I’m writing to practice writing and practice what it feels like to know some unknown person may happen on it and read and hopefully may be be amused, touched, floored, shocked…..or bored. Ha!

Tonight wanting to escape from my life from my feelings so it all looks interesting. Not like I don’t have a stack of reading material to catch up on; the two novels I’m in the midst of (one I’m rereading because was so spaced out on my trip think I missed some The History of Love not what you think but even better!) anyway, the old National Geographics appealing with information new to my mind migrations human population art travel beautiful pictures, The SUN  my favorite magazine in the whole world (I actually read that cover to cover when it comes, and wait for the next), all the Google lists of items to look up and read on all-manner-of-subjects. And then there s the ‘spiritual’ stuff……the old standbys that save my ass when my heart feels the world is ending once again, the Death and Dying book which teaches me compassion, Emmet Fox, Cornfield, the Course, and all the little posts-notes-trick-sayings that help keep me sane and back in the moment. I could read for days and days and days, and do nothing else, and never catch up. And probably only really escape in small moments. But they are sweet.

But really, writing is what I want to do. Make you myself all of us laugh, think, philosophize, care, love, open our hearts, let you see me; but god not too much, be vulnerable but please watch out that’s too close.

So just for now in my minds eye I see the greenest rolling hills, the air is crisp, smells so fresh and wonderful, the sky incredibly blue, and nothing touches me but this visual. Nothing can touch my heart but this. Just for now. And I didn’t have to read a thing!

After close call

Wondering why I'm still here

In big cold at heart Izmir.

Contemplating how I escaped death

Realizing once again

It may not be a sweet goodbye

Surrounded by friends family

Love forgiveness and peace.

The other window may open

With no warning

Am I prepared? My soul ready?

What does that even mean

Short version who knows

No more wasting, been here before.

Gratitude abounds amid shock and fear.

There is no perfect 'ready' time to die.

We all will though, with warning possibly long or short,

possibly agonizing,

Or without warning or premonition.

Over, done, on to the next door.

Turkey two weeks ago

Written March 3rd

Couldn’t get to my blog in Turkey, couldn’t send AOL mail, unless through my phone; and although frustrating, welcome to the insanity-of-the-internet-world outside the US. As I look through my pictures I can see the story, the heartline, the visions made real; and since my memory drops things without a thought (there’s a pun) it is good I do have visual in photos, in body pain, and eventually released brain farts.

Let us start in Istanbul, a city of 18 million. Can’t even get my head around that many people, until I see it.  Winter cold wind chill unbearable. The skies are gray and brown. The traffic horrendous. The history of Istanbul is the draw. What has happened here, who lived here, or tromped through or sailed by. The mosques built on Christian churches, reminding me of Spain’s Christian churches built on mosques. Who was here and then defeated. Allah is everywhere as the minarets call out from dark morning through the day. Islamic writing on the wall with the Virgin Mary. The dichotomy of faith religion belief burrowing in my mind. Dreams at night of running up and down cobblestone streets searching being late worried, not in the moment. I am practicing that while missing musing wondering watching. It isn’t necessarily easy to travel. Yes, it’s a gift a blessing………but not easy.

On to Cappadocia, the land of fairy sand castles, emptied of their inhabitants not long ago. Surrounded by snowy peaks the valleys hold the ancient life mixed with the tourist edge. Being winter not many of us brave enough to tromp in the cold, but tea awaits. Turkish tea(often Lipton), sage tea, apple tea and more.



Cappadocia, Turkey