Turkeys have had a bad rap.
Ben Franklin wanted to have a Turkey as the national bird since it was the smartest bird known at that time.

Anyone who has hunted wild turkey will tell you it isn't a cake walk; I say it is a turkey trot.
I would go turkey hunting and God forbid I shot one. What a mess and cleaning it, getting the shot out of it. Just an all around nasty business. Plus wild turkey is gamey tasting.
Nope, turkey hunting was my way of getting out of the house, and mending fence, stacking hay, cleaning tack, and working on the ranch truck.
Shotgun, jerky, couple of bags of peanuts, a sandwich, and a cold beer wrapped in newspaper and I was out in the woods for a little trot.

The guys in town would ask if I bagged my turkey and I would say yes. They would ask where and I would tell them the store.
Years ago I got a ribbing, But as time went on more of the guys were joining me on a chilly morning hunt where we talked, laughed, caught up on each other, and made enough noise no upstanding turkey would dare come within a hundred yards.
More of a reason for socializing was our yearly turkey trot.

May your Thanksgiving be more of a turkey trot with laughter, sharing, and socializing.

Happy Thanksgiving

Who was it that went into Hades to retrieve his true love?
Did she really want to come out of Hades. It is time to review myths and written history.
We all have our personal myths. Our beliefs about our history and about those around us. Like the fish that grows in length with each telling of the fish story, so our myths, and personal history changes.
Our first love, our first injury, our first accident, our fights, and frustrations. All lay in our mind as dreams of the past.

Where is the border of dreams, truth, reality, living history and remembered history? Is the border in our dreams? Or is the border between reality and unreality in the moment; in today?

Truth, and fiction tend to blend like roasted coffee of the mind.
We live in a time of blended truth unusual in history due to our access to media in all forms.
How do we seperate what is true and what is not?
It is not easy!
But wait! What if we just talk about what we really know.
What do you really know for sure?
It is what we can see, what we can smell, what we can hear, what we can touch and how we feel emotionally.
From that point on, we can only report what comes to us second hand.

My border is what I can sense and what I can say about my emotions.
Everything else,,,I cross the border. I cross the boundary of truth and reality to conjecture and second hand information, and speculation.
Sometimes the only way to know our borders is to cross them..I think that is called ___________________.

Thirty was not as bad as everyone said. Thirty-nine was edgy and then forty came along. Then 45 hit and so did denial. The big 50 came with thundering realizations. The body. Our temple of spirit seemed to be showing signs of slowing, and damage. The light at the end of the tunnel was no longer a figure of speech.

All the time the process was transpiring, there was inside a kid. A kid who could be serene, could be lost in the beauty of in single blade of grass, could be stung by a slight, could laugh with reckless abandon, a kid that found simple joys in running or pretending to be something other, and above all else, a kid who found the wonder in life.

The kid just told me it is time to go outside and play.
Hi Kids!

Getting to the point.
Looking at the ceiling and hearing a voice across the room.
" I can hear the anger in my voice, but I don't feel angry. It is the old parent voice that has to get things done and everyone in line"

Think and listening.

We use a hammer to beat a nail into submission, to break down a wall, to hammer something into place. Force and compliance from anger and fear that is what is used.

Sometimes we find a door or gate that is locked. What we grab is the hammer, since we are used to using it, instead of reaching for a key.

I have been spending time increasing my selection of keys.

Maybe our community, state, national, and world leaders could start using a key instead of a hammer.
It always starts with each of us making the choice.

Here we go.
Lawn Blowers have to be some type of message. Looking at aspects of our life on a day to day basis we see things that make sense; either crazy sense or common sense. Of course there are the times when things seem to make absolutely no sense at all.
Blowers that the lawn workers use, or my neighbor uses.
In my mind cleaning is about removing the dirt, debris, stains, drips, drops, splatters, and stuff that is untidy or in the way.
Blowers just blow things around, the yard may look good but really the blown debris is just blown in the street or over to a unsuspecting neighbor. The wind comes up, a car or truck whooshes by and the debris is back. Sometimes the debris is pushed in cracks, against plants, walls , or fences. To me it would be like using a weed blower in my Garage or house..just stirs stuff up, and pushes stuff out of sight...for a while.
I guess the weed blower creates job security for yard maintenance crews,for home owners it offers empowerment of pushing things around or a form of revenge on a neighbor.

With a blower, the chances are what you blow away now, will be blown back later.

I get debris in my mind. You know like I ought to do this, or I shouldn't have done that, and other random thoughts. My weed blower is to read a book or watch a movie. I watch or read and when I am done the thoughts are back.
I want a vacuum not a blower. Vacuum that mind trash up and send it to the dump.