Archive for the musings Category


Posted in flash fiction, musings, personal, relationships, writing with tags , , on December 2, 2017 by kimmy

danger island

I lived there once, among the snakes and venomous insects, blissfully unaware and deliberately so, keeping the beaches swept of leaves and the coconuts lined up in neat rows.  I slept under the stars in a hammock that swayed with trade winds and swam over coral reefs teeming with life.  The sun rose every day over cloudless blue skies and when the rains fell, they were soft and warm as a whisper.

But I didn’t listen to their warnings, did I?  Their words were unintelligible fluff, blowing around on the breezes and arranging themselves in illogical sequences that were easy to ignore.

So, I ignored them.

For years.

Until one day, I opened my eyes and the beauty was gone.  The coconut palms yielded no fruit and the fish abandoned the reef.  So I fashioned a raft and floated away from my island, back over the seas to the mainland where I grieved the loss of my tropical paradise.

For the skies over the mainland were cold and grey.  And though it was crowded with people, I felt more alone than I ever had on my island.  The winds no longer cradled me at night, but howled ceaselessly at the door and screamed in my ear.  Their words were not entreaties, but demands that were hard to ignore.

So, I tried to ignore them.

And failed.

For the cruel mainland wind changed its strategy and employed a human mouth to deliver its message, and my grief came to an abrupt end.

“How did you manage to survive on that island?” asked he who was sent by the wind.  “Didn’t you know it was a nuclear testing site and unfit for human habitation?”



Posted in love, musings, poetry, reminisce, writing on November 21, 2017 by kimmy

What would I say if I saw you again?
Could I even bear to look upon my actions
Without pleading with Time
For a chance to alter what I set in motion
So many years ago.
That Time might relent and open its arms,
Permitting me to change the dial
To point in an unfamiliar direction,
A route driven by desire
And not fear of an unknown fate.
Would He be so generous
As to allow me to shuffle what has passed
And deal myself another hand,
One that won’t leave me bankrupt,
But rich with the fulfillment of a wish
That I once nurtured like a seedling
Yet somehow neglected to water.
Or would He deny me that chance
Knowing full well that to return to the past
Requires amnesia of future events
And loss of its hard-won wisdom.
For I cannot go back and alter my words;
I can only meet you here and now
And speak them as they have always been:
Unvarnished and raw
But finally freed from the ligature
Of self-imposed doubt.
For it wasn’t you that I feared so long ago,
Only myself
And the yawning expanse of emotion
That I could neither face nor name.


Posted in musings with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2012 by kimmy



I know your secret vice.  You scroll through old postings and try to relive the past.  But it is gone, my friend.  Gone like the years parading by in succession.  Gone like your chance for redemption in this life.

What do you hope to find during those solitary forages into the past?  Yourself?  That creature was never a reality, but only a dreamcatcher content to play with the thoughtforms of others.  And now you are caught in its web, something I predicted years ago.

Don’t bother to struggle.  It will only tighten around you.  Best allow it to hold you fast for you are not capable of unselfish action.  All the woes which have befallen you have come only by your summons and until you admit your part, they will follow you until the end of days.

Not a happy prospect, I will agree, but an unavoidable one.  Had you taken another path, it would be no different.  You can change the faces and vistas that surround you, but until you change your soul, the outcome will be the same. 

That’s why it’s pointless to revisit the past.   The person you pretended to be doesn’t exist and never existed.  You cannot live vicariously through him.  The being to whom the passionate prose was written was a fictional character, not you.  Reading it is an invasion of his privacy.

But ignoring boundaries is something you know well, and, given the current conditions, isn’t likely to change.  You may play the wronged party as long as you like, my friend, but only your sycophants will be fooled.  Let them cheer you.  Let them applaud you.  Gather as big a supporting crowd as you can; that way you’ll have plenty of company when your ship goes down.

For sink it will, and by your own hand, too.  You already have a sense of this, that’s why you reach for safety into the past when, if only very briefly, your fictional doppelganger acted with reason.

Holding onto an imagined life preserver will not save you.  You cannot rely on another to do your work, especially when amends must be made personally.  Otherwise you will continue to binge on the emotions of another and remain a slave to your addiction.


Posted in musings, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 21, 2011 by kimmy

Would you give up everything now to be rewarded later?  What if the sacrifice required hardship… or worse?  Would you still be willing to walk the walk, or would you -like most- just talk it and hope for the best?

I’m not certain what inflicts the greater damage to earth and nations:  religious zeal or corporate greed.  Both are blind to consequence.  Are the fanatics who lure men and women to their deaths in the name of righteousness any better than anonymous board members who employ men and women to plunder resources for gain?   Isn’t it all just a struggle for mandate?

Who’s on top, who’s below… it’s conflict without solution, like a never-ending game of King of the Mountain with a succession of kings either fighting to reach the pinnacle or fighting those who wish to unseat him.  And except for inflaming rivalry and anger, nothing is really accomplished.  The winner guards what he cannot keep and the others vie for it.  A completely futile exercise…

… but one that remain irresistible to those who haven’t yet graduated from competitive reality.  As long as there is someone to dominate, compare or belittle, there is little time for reflection upon right action.  It’s hard to put away selfish desires and operate from a place of compassion, especially when there’s no tangible incentive and nobody else is doing it.  It’s easier just to clobber your neighbor than help him.

But what if that has become tiresome and you yearn for something greater?  Has pushing and shoving through life yielded the happiness you seek?  Or are you still looking, hoping it can be found and reconciled to the habits you’re unwilling to break?

Nearly all religious and spiritual traditions have simplicity at their cores, a voluntary relinquishment of attachments to worldly life.  How that is ultimately achieved varies with doctrine, but all require surrender… not of self, but of those misperceptions that comprise self.

Picture this:  You’re at home or work, toiling away at some mundane task, when a strange mendicant approaches and urges you to abandon everything -home, work, family, mortgage- and to follow.  You scoff at the notion until a second glance affords you a look into infinity and you wonder why this odd person would ask such a thing, or why he/she glows with a palpable radiance.  You are confused, struggling between what is expected and what is possible, but you cannot shake off what you have briefly glimpsed.  Nor can you explain the serenity that creeps over you like a blanket, shutting out all the anxieties that dogged you previously.

“Follow me and others will follow you,” says your strange guest.

Now you have a choice:  Push through the fear that you’ve lost your mind and consider the offer… or dismiss the whole thing as the rambling of a complete nutcase.   Consider those who put their faith in someone like Harold Camping and gave up everything to spread his doomsday message.  Were they wrong to believe?

Our minds like finite ideas:  dates of apocalypse, numbers of people saved, estimates of the condemned,  bragging rights.  What we seem to shrink from is the notion that there are no finite concepts.  There are no divisions of race, color, creed, gender, ability, language, custom, or nation.  Nor are we separate from birds in the air or the rocks on the ground.  Indeed we are all just molecular particles swirling in space.  The only boundaries that exist are the ones in our minds.  And as long as we insist upon forcing this mental template upon the whole of creation, we will struggle.

For the struggle is not with neighbors, the boss or the government.  It is our own refusal to see everyone and everything as ourself.  Would you be a fisher of men and embrace all that you see regardless of the protests of your mind, or will you seek the temporary safety of exclusion?


Posted in musings, writing with tags , , , , , , , on March 12, 2011 by kimmy

Take me ‘round the world and back again

To the hidden places and secret spaces that dot the landscape

Like flakes of snow.

Let’s hide within them and never look back

On what we’ve left or the ones bereft of soul to witness

Them melt in the sun.


For dwindle they will until they’re gone

Leaving behind only faded stories of former glories that none believe

Save young girls

Who cling to fairy tales and enchantments

With the hope that one kiss will lead to bliss neverending

In a castle far away.


I close my eyes and I see the white horse

With his two riders running hard toward a shard of crystal yet shining

In the light.

If we tarry, the sun will burn it away forever

And we’ll never share passion fine and rare of which bards sing

And poets write.


Posted in musings, personal, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2010 by kimmy

One of the traits of being a chronic over-achiever is desire for control.  As long as all the contingencies are in place, the world is manageable.  Managing the contingencies and all their permutations is not.

I learned this the hard way, as do we all, when everything I had was suddenly severed from me.  It was only then that I realized that I was trying to manage my feelings of powerlessness by controlling all external factors, no matter what or who they were.  In a nutshell, I was a classic control freak.

Funny how I used to laugh at people who I thought had control issues.  Never in a million years would I have described myself as one of them.  Did I have the bulging eyes and nervous tics of the OCD?  No.  Did I corset myself into inflexible routines?   No.  Did I lose my temper and scream at others if  they were hijacking my show?  No.  Was I hoarding newspapers or compulsively surfing the home shopping channels?  No.  Was I drugging or boozing myself into a stupor every evening?  No.  I didn’t recognize any of these extreme behaviors in myself, so I dismissed the idea.

And yet when I found myself without a home or a job, I realized how dependent I was upon them, not only as a source of income and refuge, but as a means of identity.  Was I really my home?  Was I nothing but a career jockey?  Yes, I had other interests and I flattered myself that they made me a rounded individual.  But when my anchors were suddenly pulled up, I knew I wasn’t the renaissance woman of my imagination.

It made me wonder what I truly valued.  Was I just a product of my environment, aping the behaviors of my family and in some cases, trying to insulate myself against the damage they had inadvertently wrought?  Or was I mindlessly following the dictates of greater society which tells me what I should and should not do?

I suppose I would have had an uninterrupted life full of approved activity and expectation had I not been soul-searching and earnestly practicing.  I may have gone to my grave and onto another lifetime none the wiser, just like everyone else around me.  But what started out as passing interest, has during the last twenty-five years become the fire that keeps me alive. 

What was I thinking, that search for truth is nothing but an intellectual exercise and life goes on without change?  I must have because none of the people around me, even those who professed a deeply spiritual bent, were inconvenienced with massive life changes.  They worked, raised families, drove luxury cars and lived very well.  It seemed as though they had the best of both worlds; why wouldn’t I be in awe?  So much so that I might try to emulate them?  Of course!

And so I did.  For years, I worked and lived in the world while praying and meditating for deliverance from it.  When those worldly anchors began to slip away, I felt betrayed.  Why couldn’t I have it all?  I wanted to yell at God for misleading me, for swindling me out of those sweet rewards that others possessed.  Wasn’t I doing everything right?  Wasn’t I trying to be compassionate?  Didn’t I chant, meditate, ruminate, contemplate and contort my body as prescribed?  Where was my piece of the action?  My enlightenment?

In other words, I wanted to control it all.  I wanted to make the decisions, judge what was worthy and dole out the perks.  But as I said before, the hard way taught me more than I realized:  I cannot serve two masters.  One of them has to go.

And so this control freak has to relinquish control.  It’s time to grieve its loss and let it go.  Maybe when I’ve been completely lightened of this baggage, I’ll finally see the light.


Posted in musings, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2010 by kimmy


Lethargic polar bears lounging on plastic icebergs?  Check.  Tigers pacing back and forth?  Check.  Chimps flinging poo at bystanders? Check.  Make no mistake, dear reader;  you’re living at the zoo. 

I don’t normally do it, but today I let down my guard.  Maybe it was the cars scurrying down the road like rats, their metal box chassis caging the occupants inside.  Or maybe it was a larger picture… Humans swarming like insects over the planet, grouping together in virtual cages of tribe, ethnicity and nation.  But suddenly I felt trapped in a dirty smelly enclosure and wondered who or what put me there.

I used to think higher reasoning and culture were the hallmarks of our society.  Now I think otherwise.  It’s not art or philosophy highlighted on the front page of my browser.  It’s conflict.  What quarrelsome creatures we are.  No wonder we’re forced to live small.  If we had the ability to move beyond our cage into the vastness of space, we’d bring all our nasty habits with us.  Who in their right mind would adopt us into the Federation of Planets?  We’re worse than Romulans and the Borg combined.

Is high function subject to the animal?  Maybe George Orwell was right;  Some of the people I saw in the grocery store this morning did remind me of cows.  Everyone was sedately herded through the aisles and funneled into the cashier’s lanes like sheep.  We all took our bags and walked out to our cars as if we lived in Farmer Hoggett’s barn.  I sort of expected a beatific voice to say to us all, “That’ll do, pigs.  That’ll do.”

Except there are no rousing cheers when we perform on cue.  There are, however, painful reminders of what might happen if we don’t.  Think about it.  Countless laws, restrictions, prohibitions, taboos all designed to keep us orderly and we observe them, terrified of the consequences here and in the hereafter.

And yet…  there are those who refuse to be bound by such measures.  Those fat polar bears lounging on public largesse?  Corporate hoarders.  Those chimpanzees hurling dung in your face?  Zealots.  Hungry tigers eager to kill and devour?  War mongerers.  We might delude ourselves into thinking that these troublemakers are safely behind bars.  The problem is that we’re locked up with them.