A Ludicrously Lovely Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

——
I keep wondering:
Will such wonders ever cease?
Not in this lifetime!

Someone should tell her,
“I really dig the beach”, is
just an expression.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

Ignore clever men
they can be out-witted. Keep
your eyes on mad-men.

before-and-after-ku:

A triangle of
tranquility sails the sea
‘neath darkening skies.

Shafts of golden light,
signaled we’d weathered the storm,
so, we headed home.

(Photographs courtesy Kristina Rebelo)


Reaching for the moon
Is an admirable goal.
Having patience helps.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

We drove through the night
to see the fall foliage
mirrored in the lake.


To be committed
is to fly through each sunset
in search of the dawn.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

The ecdysiast’s
dress men find teasiest, zips
up the easiest.


What if we’re all cogs
in a huge, complex machine,
just trying to mesh?

Beware of children
crouched near the shore, they plan
on getting you wet.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

On the isles of Shoals
in an old seaside garden,
begonias still bloom.


Through an iron fence,
I watch autumn leaves fall on
empty park benches.


A tiny sparrow
is chased by a feisty pup
pulling a young girl.


A glorious day
seeps through my window shades,and
all my fears wither.

Live a life of love,
look to better angels, carve
your own walking stick.


Pretending we’ll meet,
each time I turn a corner
makes me walk faster.

Deer in the headlights!
Brakes slammed, tires squeal! Seat-belt grabs!
Adrenaline rush!


Autumn in New York,
leaves crackle underfoot as
I stroll through the park.


Moon behind the clouds,
fields aglow in bluish light,
while foxes prowl.

KEYBOARD CAP LOCK KEYS
SERVE A PURPOSE!   THEY ALLOW
ONLINE MIMES TO SCREAM!

Speaking of mimes …

Even the police
stood and stared at the mime turned
mafia hit-man.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

Written in margins
between forgotten pages,
lies many a truth.


Pancakes for dinner …
because I’m an adult and
I’ll do what I want.

Has our course been set?
Options eliminated?
Make that U-turn now!

It’s never hard to
tell where the geologists
hold their convention.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

The latest fad in
Malibu; duels with surf boards
at twenty paces.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

A warm autumn day …
confused air conditioners
don’t know when to stop.

Changing Google themes
is a sure sign that Christmas
isn’t far away.

Klondike Barbie knows
the Gettysburg address is
in the Yellow pages.

***

It’s Spondyville’s Annual OctoberBlest!

In Spondyville, the little town that Time forgot, but Spondylitis remembered, October is a month to reflect on how blessed our lives are, in spite of having a chronic illness.  

The residents of Spondyville may be in pain, but we don’t have to suffer.  That’s the notion behind Octoberblest; An attempt to change the context in which one holds having a chronic disease.

I believe that pain is experiential and suffering is context.   Instead of letting our lives become about being in pain, we can focus on what drives our hearts forward.  Doing that, we can continue to live fulfilling lives in spite of any limitations a chronic disease may impose on us.

I believe that if you can get past the suffering, you’ll find a new, more optimistic course for your life.

Remember, having a chronic disease is not the end of one’s life, it is the beginning of a new and challenging chapter, with just as many triumphs, rewards and adventures to embrace as one would have found on the path they were on before having a chronic illness.   Note too that nobody in Life gets a clear playing field.  Everyone has challenges and obstacles to overcome. 
The history behind Octoberblest:

In October of 1874, after slightly more than a month of travel, the arduous wagon train journey of future Spondyville town co-founders, Uriah Stoop and Elias Fuselot and their friends and families was temporarily brought to a halt by what has come to be known simply as, “Culpepper’s Calamitous Cogitations.”

One of the more severely affected men in the group, Mathias P. Culpepper, suffered a major flareup of what everyone in those days called, “The Ossifyin’ Rheumatism”, and being in a very dark and melancholy mood, Culpepper began to rant and rave and vowed to go no further, demanding that the wagon train stop and settle down right where they were. (Which, unfortunately, was on the edge of a cliff, but that’s neither here nor there.) Anyway … Since he was brandishing his rifle and threatening to shoot holes in the barrels holding the wagon train’s only supply of fresh water, Mr. Culpepper’s complaints were taken very seriously. Unfortunately, wagon-master Andrew Tripzen was off negotiating with some local native Americans for some horses, so it was left to soft-spoken Elias Fuselot to try to disarm the situation (and the aforementioned Mr. Culpepper.) Taking out a bottle of medicinal whiskey he had hidden in his knapsack for emergencies, Mr. Fuselot sat down and starting talking with Mr. Culpepper. After about an hour and a half of discussin’, drinkin’, joke-tellin’ and a great deal more drinkin’, the two men began to ruminate on the nature of suffering. Mr Fuselot posed the question, “If we are not our disease, who are we?” To which Mr. Culpepper replied, “I don’t know, but if we are our disease, why do we suffer?” Mr. Fuselot, thought for what seemed like an eternity, (it was closer to a minute and a half, but never mind that), and then he quietly spoke: “Mathias, I know how you feel, for we have all suffered mightily, but it is my firm belief that though we have great obstacles to overcome in our lives, we are all otherwise blest.” With that, Mathias Culpepper put down his rifle, wiped a tear from his eye, took another gulp of whiskey and agreed to let the wagon train continue on its journey. A journey that would conclude on March 4th of the following year, with the founding of the town that we now know as Spondyville.

(By the way, the drama between Elias Fuselot and Mathias Culpepper would have never have come to light if not for a little girl named Patience Thruitt, who was hiding under one of the Conestoga wagons working on her needlepoint sampler when she should have been sleeping. Patience told her step-parents what happened and the rest is history. She later went on to become a beloved school teacher at Uriah Stoop Middle School.   Patience Thruitt was also an advocate for women’s rights, and in 1912, she was elected as the first woman member of the Spondyville town council.) It was as a member of the town council in 1924, that Patience Thruitt, sponsored a bill to commemorate the 50th anniversary of that fateful night by establishing the month of October as a time for residents of Spondyville to reflect on all the many ways that we are blessed, in spite of our chronic illness. One of Miss Thruitt’s proteges, the young Marie Strumpell, is said to have come up with the idea of calling the month-long event “Octoberblest”, dedicating it to those courageous folks that lived their lives in the time long before NSAIDs, DMARDs and biologic drugs. 

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