There is a thick fog out in the parking lot. I arrived an hour ago anticipating a sunrise. One hour later, the sun shines as always – only above this fog, just not here, not now.

I couldn’t find my bookmark in the book that I’m in the process of reading, Back On The Fire by Gary Snyder. So, I began reading at a random spot unsure whether I was reviewing old material. I recognized at last indeed I had missed my previous end point, and was reviewing what I had already read. It’s another fog. A fog brings disorientation.

Sometimes I attempt to analyze the cause(s) of the fog. How silly and without point. Life just happens, life’s intermittently foggy.

And the sun continues to shine. External conditions, effects of my immediate surroundings upon my senses transform the “world” for me. So why not wait for a while? Just breathe, no need to force things. “Things” run their course as the old saying goes.

There’s an old indigenous American tale of the yucky old Woodrat. Snyder writes:

When the Cottontail Boys tease Woodrat, “Old Woodrat makes me puke! Shitting on his grandmothers blankets–stinking everything up–pissing on everything–yucky old Woodrat! Makes the whole house stink!” We are getting an angle on several-millennia-old woodrat fragments, preserved in caves or overhangs…containing solidified urine and antique fecal pellets at the ancient twig bottoms.

This snapshot is one of many mythic photos of “how we were, and who we continue to be.” Shit on blankets provokes vertigo and  disorientation.

Little imagination is needed identify the shitting woodrat of these times!

How about a song? Music, music is a compass for our life in this place. Lodi by Creedence Clearwater Revival. Long live John Fogerty!