Gerome Kamrowski

https://pulp.aadl.org/node/401203?fbclid=IwAR2KHHw7CKDNLjj1Z53L_UEzs-9FvJxdYvKFCOzVAiVPBGuAAqV_j0sI-P8

Memory of Water - April 26, 2007

Prayer for Departure

It was yesterday in the early afternoon light

I held your hand closely in mine, the rosary beads 

draped between our hands - together, passing 

from one bead to the next, 

Hail Mary, full of grace, 

flavoring the room - a balm;

breathing in deeply all that is. 

The Lord is with thee 

ninety-five year old vesseled spirit 

with staccato breath. 

Blessed art thou among women 

emptying with each exhale in the 

lengthening pauses 

of 

nothingness. 

The tide leaves the shore; 

each wave withdraws deeper 

into the sea. 

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb 

a vessel made of red earth and chile; 

once strong legs, a blackening blue

as you take your leave 

no longer needing them. 

Ticket in hand, you turn away, 

look at the clock, see that it’s time, 

and move toward the gate that reads 

‘Departures’. 

Holy Mary, mother of god, 

water pouring into its source, 

the vessel empties, 

the breath rests, 

and this time -

does not 

return. 

Pray for us sinners.

The red-brown clay dries, crumbles... 

returns to the earth, 

now and at the hour of our death, 

as you leave, 

a breeze 

rejoining 

the 

wind. 

Amen

A Fool's Lucky Seven

Seven Foolish Years ago was the first of two relapses of the non-Hodgkins lymphoma I share the premises with and is now a teenager of 13 years old. Seven years ago I’d just begun chemo coinciding with April Fool’s day and Patti Smith igniting a flame in me with a song of the same name. My oncologist had instructed me to avoid crowds in my compromised immune state — but it was the Festifools Parade - and in my waaay altered state I wanted to be there - not on the sidelines, but in the parade! Being in the parade in the mysterious mask of an old man, I was driven to seize the moment, one old guy’s face protecting another's marching forward.

Seven years later of much foolishness and the seemingly impossible, I’m still here, still foolish, still not taking the impossible for granted. Seven added years of delightfulness, hard times, good times, and everything in between — the whole buffet of living and loving in its fullness every day.

Ain’t no place like here. Good to still share it with you all - even on the bad days, maybe especially on the bad days.

Home movie: https://youtu.be/sRVUHINrZiM

Here's to Now

by Quint Bucholz

Almost Winter Solstice 2018 - 13 yrs now of keeping my feet to the ground. 13 extra years to watch myself, my family, friends, and planet grow, stumble, flourish, struggle, and rise. All pure, rich gravy, lumps and all. Such is life - and being able to show up for all of it - the good and the difficult, is beyond words for me. Life hands you some swerves on the road - sometimes they're a shock, sometimes they're shockingly good like words from my oncologist: "decreasing in size." Didn't see that coming in reference to the wolf who shares my hut, follicular non-Hodgkins lymphoma - a most peculiar cancer. Or as my oncologist said referencing my case: "You're tricky."

Still an outlier, 
xo >>>

93 Years of Pushing the Comfort Zone

Now, 96 years old.
for more info: https://mymodernmet.com/death-metal-grandma/

Trust Your Cape

"He's one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold your breath
Always trust your cape."

                      ~ from 'The Cape' by Guy Clark

Patchwork Quilt

Colin Hay "Beautiful World" live in Manchester UK

Javier Mas, Leonard Cohen - Who By Fire?

NOTE TO SELF FROM 7 YEARS AGO ~

https://tizitl.blogspot.com/2010/11/paying-attention.html

Autumn Equinox 2017

Remember the Path.
Sometimes the way home is long ~
Old earth; still here; now.

Roses n' Shit Haiku

I believe in this: 

the power in our stories ~ 

how shit grows roses

Springtime - 11 yrs later

Life is good.

Reminder

One of my favorite paragraphs from one of my favorite guides writing one of my favorite books: 'Creativity - the perfect crime' - by my patron saint of the Seemingly Impossible, the Conquistador of the Useless, Philippe Petit: 

"In chaos, all is possible. Every incoming idea is welcomed, with no regard for reality. Forget time, money or reason; embrace a brimming universe! Because if you start with rules, your creation will be stillborn." 

                                                                                                                  by Quint Bucholz

March for Science/Earth Day: Remembering Paul Pittman - September 23, 1955 - January 8, 2017

Fierce. That’s the word I use to describe my old friend, Paul. And smart. Very smart. Never the arrogant kind of smart looking down on others who perhaps had no idea what he was talking about when he would begin to unravel the mysteries of science and the universe, but a matter-of-fact smart that shared his knowledge with all who would care to listen. When his listener’s eyes would begin to glaze over, he’d laugh and his eyes would twinkle even more than usual, which could be somewhat disarming given the fact that his eyes didn’t exactly match aiming in the same direction - one of those pairs of eyes where you never quite know where to look in order to look the person in the eye.

Yesterday I attempted to find him. It had been a few years since our last contact and I wasn't even sure where he might be, so I entered his name in google, found his photo looking like his impish self - only now an older imp. Hitting the link I was shocked to find out just three months ago he was snatched away in a flash while riding his bicycle - killed by a Ford Explorer crossing his path in a split second of inattentiveness, something he wasn’t prone to being. Right behind the shock of hearing the news was being impressed that he was still commuting by bicycle at age 61. I was reminded how he always had a bicycle as his primary transportation when we were younger, and apparently still did. It was a way of his maintaining physical strength and health while saving on gas. I'm sure he probably had calculated his carbon footprint of every mile he drove and tried to keep that to a minimum.

Paul was an innate, instinctive teacher - a man of knowledge, philosophy, and extreme curiosity that was relentless in its search. When Paul had a question he researched the answer - and that was long before any of us could appear to be an expert by googling answers. He would do serious research - from the micro-biology of nutrition, to in-depth chemistry, to the workings of the nervous system or the solar system, to saving the diminishing rain forests. He grounded the information he found in hours, weeks, years of serious work. It was just how he was wired - a curious geek with lots of humor and lots to share. A good man. I wish I’d had the chance to tell him that one last time.

We knew each other over a lifetime - going all the way back to being young bucks fumbling our way into adulthood as we discovered our worlds unfolding.

To me, Paul’s brilliance was his outstanding feature. For the average person meeting him for the first time it was more his physical appearance - the limp when he walked; the steel prosthetic hook that replaced his right hand, hung by leather straps around his shoulder and chest allowing him to control opening and closing the pincer hook like a crab claw; and his remaining left hand and arm, a reconstruction that left him with a thumb and two fingers. What he could do with his two upper appendages and their limitations was impressive and amazing - both in ability and in educating others quietly — long before any such things as disability awareness. His road was simply ‘awareness’ - and disability was a part of his package.

Back in the day, I knew Paul and his hook very well. To know Paul well meant confronting your own discomfort, get past pretending not to notice — and get real. Paul lived on Planet Real. That was a gift he gave freely.

He taught me how gentle a metal hook could be as I watched how he cradled our baby boy in his arms over 35 years ago.

He also showed me the fierce, ‘I can do anything’ side of himself as I rode ‘shotgun’ next to him in his little sports car as he drove like a wild man down a curvy country road letting his reckless spirit fly. He grabbed the stick-shift with his hook as he showed me his speeding driving chops as he wove our way through the winding countryside - a favorite pastime of his until one night he drank too much alone and crashed the car down a hillside, stopping just short of going into the river. He escaped without a scratch - the next day taking me down there to find the scene he couldn’t quite clearly remember.

Okay, just because you’re smart in some areas doesn’t mean you’ve got it covered in all areas! But he learned. And I learned. And we got older.

A few years later, another questionable choice of both of ours was when he offered to create a fireworks display for a 4th of July party we were having.

“Wow! Sure! Sounds cool!” I said.

The night of the party Paul set his fireworks up. About 50 kids and adults gathered around. His fireworks were homemade, but the fact that he was a chemist and seemed to know what he was doing — coupled with his saying “these are just tiny little fireworks for the kids” led us naively into what quickly became one of the wildest, most out of control, kids and parents screaming and running from fireworks randomly shooting sideways and raining down displays I’ve seen — all in our yard. 

Lesson learned: no more homemade fireworks. Even if your most brilliant chemist friend is involved.

Yes, he could be both brilliant and dangerous - not an unusual combination at all.

But then I also remember him many times sitting with curious children in conversation. He enjoyed kids, and kids being kids and forthright as they are, he always found refreshing. They’d ask him straight out things most adults wouldn’t dare, like asking about the obvious - his hook and his damaged arms. He’d suddenly turn it into ‘Show and Tell’ demonstrating how the leather straps over his shoulder allowed him to control the gripping grasp of his hook - which always led to being asked, “How’d you get this way?” and he’d give a variation of the story depending on the age of the crowd.

It takes little imagination to consider what kind of a boy Paul was. I’m sure his inquisitiveness could drive a parent mad on occasion in trying to keep up, protect, and keep him safe. It’s a relentless job when you have a relentless kid with relentless drive. And somehow they managed to survive all that, but just barely.

The story as Paul told me was that as a young teenager he brought home chemicals from a school chemistry lab. He was down in the basement doing experiments, mixing chemicals, crouched down on the floor over a container when it exploded, blowing off his right arm, parts of his left and parts of muscle of his lower legs that were close to the explosion.

The fact he went onto study and earn a masters in biochemistry says volumes about him. He became a chemist and mastered the world of chemistry that altered his very being.

His road of recovery was long. Life-long and relentless. And with good humor and grace - right up to his end riding his beloved bicycle.

I learned his most recent area of research was about the diminishing rainforest. His life’s work ending on a global note. As the organization ‘Rainforest Partnership’ said in memoriam: “Paul hoped that his findings would contribute to the conservation of tropical rainforests. It is our sincere hope that by publishing his work it might reach a broader audience and raise awareness of an issue that was close to his heart.”

He was a good man. I wish I’d had one last chance to say that to him — and for all that he taught me, “Thank you.”

http://wcfish.tributes.com/obituary/photos/Paul-Edward-Pittman-104361061

Keep Breathing

"As long as you can still grab a breath, you fight. You breathe. Keep breathing."
                                                    ~ from 'The Revenant'

Old Zen Story

In the final hours at Standing Rock

  (r)Evolutionary Haiku

Grand things are ahead

worth living, worth dying for.

Life's seasons in flow.

"Perfect is the enemy of good." 
     Italian proverb popularized by Voltaire

Dragons

Our fears are like dragons guarding our most precious treasures. 

                                                                      - Ranier Maria Rilke

It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. 

                                                                      - J.R.R. Tolkien

Amusing Ourselves to Death