One Value of a Variable

Do we really exist? Perhaps we are just an illusion. Does anything we see exist? Is anything permanent? If the illusions are real, are any permanent in a material form. If the Earth disintegtated today, what reality would be released? What energy would survive? Would it be positive? If there were particles released, what story would they tell? Is everyday life only an illusion behind which lies the reality of dreams. Dreams are what? Visions are what? One you have while sleeping and the other while you are awake. What is consciousness? If it is an awareness within us, what is unconsciousness? The same? No. What holds onto our existence when we are unconscious? Why? What exists outside of this psychic sphere? The brain exists in a conscious and unconscious state and dies with the body. It deals with knowledge. It cannot discern truth from lies concerning all things. How is truth determined? How can conclusions be drawn and by whom? Why do some seem not to have a conscience? There is a reality somewhere in the human being that determines his conscience. Really? What reality is needed? Where does it come from? Can we buy a pound at the store?
How much information is transmitted from person to person unknowingly? What determines the aura? Will you know if you touch someone's aura. Can you see it? If you walk into a dark room, could you sense another person? Could you see their aura? Can you learn to see auras? If you could not see them might you smell them or touch them? What is taste? What does it mean? Is it present when you are born? What does a baby bring into the world? When you die what do you take with you? How much of our psyche is disturbed by the influence of our environment as we grow up? How damaged are we? Why didn't God make us so we could't go wrong? Surely He knew we would. Temptation is strong. Was it there before the fall? Humans needed to get to know themselves better before they were given choices. Free will is the problem. Choice is difficult to get right all the time? When we know it is wrong, why do we do it anyway? Because we know it is all an illusion and nothing is permanent? How much time do we spend thinking this over?
Why do we feel compelled to talk on cell phones all the time? Are we afraid to be alone with our thoughts? Do we have any thoughts? Are we afraid to connect with ourselves for fear of seeing something we don't want to see? Are we afraid the thoughts we find might just be someone elses thoughts we have adopted. Why do we think others are smarter than we are? Is the world filled with educated derelicts?What does it mean to be educated? What do you think? We need the age of enlightenment to be now, but, we don't have time.
Have we molded religions to suit ourselves? Do we change beliefs if they don't suit our lifestyles? How can a system of beliefs supposedly based on making the world a better place tell believers to kill anyone who doesn't believe like they do? Who is suoreme enough to make that decision? How much power do we give away when we give up on ourselves? Why do we hate? Why do we hate enough to kill? Why do we believe this might actually solve our problems? Does all of this really exist?
What conditions us to react the way we do? Where did guilt come from?
What does the hummimgbird say to me when he stops and looks in the window at me after sucking nectar from the beautiful, white moon flowers on Gypsy's fence? Maybe he says, "Yum! Yum! Thanks for planting those delicious flowers." You are welcome my little friend. Come back again when you see my writing light shinning. Hold on to that which makes your soul sing, your brain will any screw you up. When you die it is you soul that will go with you. Take good care of it. Cabin Thoughts Cara

Don't Come Back!

Centipede: any of a class (chilopoda) of long flattened many segmented predaceous anthropods with each segment bearing one pair of legs of which the foremost pair is modified into poison fangs. We have had many visitors at the ranch. Most have been welcomed. However, last week one showed up I hope never returns. It was late in the day, just beginning to get dark. The light from the cabin window barely lighted the bathroom floor. I needed to take out the trash. I went to the bathroom to get my shoes. They were on the floor. The front edge of the shoes was just under a chest of drawers. I did not turn on the light. As I reached for my light, beige, moccasin styled topsiders something moved very quickly in my right shoe. Yikes! Could it be a snake? It was not light enough to see exactly what it was. Quickly I switched on the antique lamp that hangs from the ceiling. Much to my dismay, slithering around in my shoe was a huge centipede. It was the size of a good Cuban cigar. Help! I could not leave to get a sledge hammer, because, if it moved I would not know where it was. Not good. I knew a fly swatter wouldn't cut it. This was a monster that I really didn't want to step on. And besides, crushing it would make a terrible mess in my shoe. My eyes were glued on this swirl of connected black disks supported by perhaps several hundred white legs and feet. It's head was ugly and white, and of course, there were the poisonouse red fangs at the rear. Think. How can I get rid of this thing forever? Very carefully I reached down and picked up the shoe holding the centipede. I made a dash for the toilet and flipped the centipede into the water in bowl. I flushed it. That boy is on a cruise to the dark continent where he belongs. We have also had the occasional tarantula, spider and exotic bug pay us a visit. To all of these unwelcome creatures we say, "Don't Come Back!" There is now steel wool plugging any hole big enough to give passage to these guys and diatomaceous earth to cut off all their little feet if they get by the steel wool. Such is life at the cabin in the Texas Hill Country. The hummimgbird has come to the blooming moon flowers outside my window several times while I have been writing. He sucks out the nectar, hesitates to look through the window at me and then moves on. The sun has been shinning most of the day. Hurrah. Such is life here at the cabin in the Texas Hill Country. The Cabin Gang

Fog Creeps in on Little Cat Feet ( Robert Frost )

Fog creeps in on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches, and then moves on. ( Robert Frost ) The fog came in the night to fill the woods and surround the cabin. Gypsy and I will not see the sunrise today. It is quiet and peaceful as we greet the day. Gypsy pursues a toad as she keeps a sharp eye on the feeding area. The deer, rabbits and squirrels might come to feed at any moment. This is exciting stuff to a nine year old English Pointer. Me too. The wooden porch furniture is moist from the fog. I should get a paper towel and wipe it off, but, I don't. I might miss something. The candle in the lantern flickers around the damp cabin porch. The hot expresso in my hand feel comforting in the almost cold , damp morning air. We hear no sound except the song of a nearby Cardinal. The fog has covered our usual morning view. The hills have disappeared into the soft, gray cloud. The sun is hiding there as well. The song of the woods is mysterious as the fog takes on the shape of strange creatures as it moves though the woods towards the cabin porch. It leaves a layer of moisture on us as it lingers in the candle light, keeping us company until it moves on. We see the first morning light filter through the foggy trees. The moon flowers are blooming on Gypsy's fence next to the porch. The angel patch is quiet. ( Flower garden, lined with stones and dotted with small, angel statues in front of the porch ) Another beautiful morning has come to us from the woods. We join the fog creatures and let the wood,s story drift over us as we watch the morning unfold. Gypsy will come in soon and take her morning snooze. The morning has been pondered. The cabin Gang

When the Hummingbird comes to visit.

Early this Spring Gypsy and I planted deep pink and blue morning glories on her five foot, cedar post rabbit fence right outside the cabin window where I sit and write. Gypsy is my nine year old English Pointer who completely runs my life. She is a superb companion in all ways. As the sun rises on the magnificent woods that surrounds the cabin, I sit at my window and watch it work and write about what I see. The sun is casting it's morning rays through the misty, hazy air gently moving the the woods towards it,s morning song. Gypsy and I listen and watch. This is a song to behold. The perfect racoon light, creeps silently across the floor of the deep, mysterious woods. As we are watching, a hummingbird comes to one of our large, deep pink morning glories. He is so close, we could touch him. When he is finished with the nectar of the deep, pink morning glory he once again comes to the cabin window, stops, as only hummingbirds can do and looks at us. He pauses ever so shortly. We exchange our morning greetings and he moves on. We are not sure how you say good morning to a hummimgbird. We wonder what he is thinking? Does he wonder what we are thinking? Will he continue to return to the cabin window? Can a hummingbird communicate with humans and dogs? Can they be trained? Does their brain work faster than then the speed at which they fly? Did the military get the idea for the helicoper that hovers from the hummingbird? Can you tame a hummingbird? A friend sent me pictures of hummimgbirds' nesting. They are facinating and beautiful. They will continue to be welcome guests here at the cabin. We hope they found a perfect place to build their nests in the woods. We hope they know they are part of the wood's song that brings us so much joy. Their are doves, jays, cardinals, rabbits and deer at the feeding area next to Gypsy's fence. She will point them until her patience expires. Then, she will run full speed directly towards them causing them to make a hasty exit to some safe place deep in the woods. They will return. She will point and chase again. She is waiting for me to finish my blog, so I can take her for a walk. She gets very excited about the walks. She does the pointer spin, which consists of spinning in circles in one spot. The spot can be most anywhere. We will walk to the low spot on our road, where the spring water runs across it. There Gypsy can get a drink to fend off the the heat of the day, before we start our walk back up the hill, on the gravel road that leads to the cabin. We marked this path home with many cairns. When we are out of eggs, we will stop half way up the hill at a neighbors to pick up a dozen. Had to stop this blog to get Gypsy in the cabin so Butchy Bull's-eye (old yellow ferrel cat with bull's-eye on his side) could get down from a tree in the angel patch behind the cabin.(area surrounded by Gypsy's fence)Bad girl! She just wants to have fun! We know we a lucky to be here. We know the years prepared us well for this journey in the Texas Hill Country. This question remains. Can a small town girl from Ohio, find happiness in the grandeiose Texas Hill Country? Read her blogs and you will see. What will the day bring? Let's go and see. The cabin crew