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  • Writer's picturekaydee777

Catching falling stars on a rainy day

”…nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old..…”Jack Kerouac

For a date with the 2021 edition of the Perseid meteor showers, I chose a night of hanging out with the fey ladies at Faywood Hotsprings.

It’s monsoon season (See previous posts here and here). The late afternoon and evening was stormy. However my educated gamble (that storms tend to happen more often in afternoon and early evening not after midnight) paid off. The clouds cleared by midnight.

From 3 am onwards, I was able to lie back under a canopy of magnificence, floating in geothermally heated mineral hot water

I also learned some things (I have probably) long known:

1) Garrulous co-soakers can seriously impact the experience or: some people are just more sociable than me in the pools.

2) Smokers are selfish. They have the addicts lack of awareness of others so don’t care about polluting the air around them with their smoke. Whether it’s cigarettes or (homegrown) weed, the smoke still pervades another’s airspace, it’s still toxic, second hand smoke.

3) Antivaxxers inhabit a parallel universe. I can peer in, but only see as through a veil darkly. Try though I might to listen to, and thus come to understand, their position, I do often just hit a wall of incongruity. In this case: you are taking a stand against vaccination on grounds of bodily purity/not enough research/science is dubious, while at the same time deliberately rolling dried herbal matter in cigarette papers, igniting the resulting slim package, and inhaling the pungent smoke deeply into your lungs? Disregarding the extensive research which has shown that smoking DOES seriously damage the body, including lungs, throat, mouth.

Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.

I’m resolved to not bother much anymore to make attempts at finding common ground, just establish my own boundaries.

But then again: who wants to contemplate the forlorn rags of growing old, when you have hands full of other peoples’ (lost) marbles and pockets full of stars?

Dhyana mudra was never meant to be a dumping ground for your shiny trinkets.

The world just can’t stand too much enlightened emptiness.

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