what a face

Thank you for reading my blog.  In my opinion, blog writing is similar to the sound of one hand clapping in its energy and focus, because something goes on, but may not make noise.  There is a sad ‘no read’ blog world out there, and I’m probably in that category, but so what? Who determines sad?  What is the sound of one hand clapping?  Clapping becomes part of the wind, like a leaf blows.  It may be like a butterfly wing flutter that changes the world.

I need to write about what’s going on in my mind, and gaze at words I’ve written down.  I feel a sacred desire to express myself, like picking up rocks and looking at surprises underneath. I don’t see writing as a lonely activity.  What fascination to consider the history of each letter, and combining letters into comprehensive word and ideas become antiquity, like Chaucer or Beowulf.  I will be antiquity soon enough, but not today.  I am not Chaucer, but who knows what influence blogs will have in a thousand years?

Changing the subject: my seventeen year-old cat had his annual shots, and even though he looks healthy for an old guy, he is losing weight.  I don’t want him to die and he’s not sick, but the train’s coming down the track, so to speak.  I need him in my life, and I’ve written other blogs about him.  I’m experiencing guilt for choosing not to get blood work done on him. Why do blood work to find out what’s going on?  Yes, I’d get information, but he’s on borrowed time already.

I pick up my cat and love him as much as he allows me to hold him.  He’ll let me brush him and then scratches me to draw blood before he jumps off my lap.  I don’t need ‘cat scratch fever. ‘

Blogging may be seen as self-indulgent, like blathering about my cat.  Maybe it is blather, but maybe when I reach out about simple things, it makes a difference, like the fluttering butterfly wing.  If I write a little about my love toward my cat, it can’t be all that bad, can it?  I don’t need to write the Declaration of Independence every week.