Spider Monsoon

The Architect

Spider Monsoon

The other day, whistling away (figuratively speaking, as I'm a terrible whistler), I went hiking in the woods, and I'm accustomed to seeing some spiders, but instead of the usual web here and there, there was an actual spider takeover. Not sure what happened in the forest -- maybe some kind of hierarchy shift -- but the spiders seemed to be wholly in charge. On every path, I noticed (and felt) a thick coat of spider webs. Big, impressive ones too. Indeed, a spider monsoon. The creatures were large, too, like this guy, and some were bigger. Don't think I've ever seen so many at once. Not sure what kind of architect/dinner seeking/web party was going on, but it made me chuckle, and it definitely humbled me.

After getting covered with webs and creatures (literally head to toe), I had an eerie thought:  poisonous? Bites? For a while, I kept going, but then I felt outnumbered and defeated, so I decided to make my getaway and stick to the road path. Plus, I felt guilty about destroying their intricate designs. Awesome traps, actually. Beautiful. I told them as much. Well, you win. You've caught me, I thought, grinning. I'm sure some god was up there, out there, cracking up.

Usually, I dig spiders; they don't bother me at all, but let me say this:  when I was covered in a weird rain shower of webs and spiders, and I felt them all over (down the shirt, under the hat, in the shorts, you name it), I had a little different reaction. It's that age-old idea of "everything in moderation." But here's the amazing thing -- I came out of this hike without one...single...bite.

Maybe they're out building and stocking up on food because fall's coming...they seem to come out in droves when the weather changes? The leaves are already turning and falling. Looks like it may be a long winter. Time to make a trip to Roanoke and hit the App Trail. :) It's so gorgeous in the fall.

Today's truth:  Everything in moderation. Also, if you build it, he will come. Not sure who "he" is, but I hope it's not an entire baseball team. I have a small place and a few frozen dinners, so I'm not sure I'm equipped for Field of Dreams. Still, I hope someone shows up someday. Besides the mail guy. Although, at this point, he's looking mighty attractive.

C.A. MacConnell

The Director

 Temple of Love

 Vintage Guitars

The Director

Today, you could save the
world
through shadowy scenes,
or you could visit
the real
girl,
or you could rest your head down
and finally drift
off.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Private Planes 5

Private Planes 5

When I look at these planes, sometimes I imagine that they're waiting for me. Makes me feel so excited.

Hi there. Today, for the first time, I'm sending out some of this young adult novel I just wrote. Send some good energy my way! I think I'll celebrate.

Hope you're well. Hope you feel loved.
C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Small World

Small World

Today's truth:  Be the quiet observer. Listen, feel, and learn how others experience life.

C.A. MacConnell

Frying Pan

Dear god, the nape of it.

He loves a pale Leo

in November.

His oxen senses,
his driving team,

pull him
into the dream of her

but today,
like yesterday,

there will be no lion,
no afternoon nap.

True, her axle neck
barely holds

her head and heart
together.

And listen
to the sound

of her noel voice.
True, her boy shape

is no pear.
In her hand,

there rests
no frying pan.

Nearly all month,
he has been loping

across the room --
ape-living;

here, empty hands
and empty arms

forever hang loose.
Secretly, he hopes

for a strange,
warm winter.

Home is pretty
this time of year.

He loves a pale Leo
in November.

Dear god, the awake of it.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Home

Home

C.A. MacConnell

Laughing Again

This morning, emotionally, I was in a dark place. I suppose that one could call it "trapped in morbid reflection" or "racing thoughts" or "dread of the future" or I dunno, "just plain doom." When I head out on this train of thinking, what happens is this:  one simple negative thought like "I'm ugly" or "he hates me" snowballs, and before I know it, I'm feeling extremely low, and yeah, this all may sound strange and/or dangerous to some, but I'm so used to it (it's happened since I was ten), that now, when it hits full force, I just function right through it, although it can wear me out, but I'm a trooper. And ridiculously stubborn.

I'm sure some people can relate. Maybe a lot, I dunno. I suppose we all have our ups and downs -- some more severe than others.

But recently, I've discovered something -- I'm now able to turn the dark thoughts around, and it's happening faster and faster. At one time, it seemed like it took eons for me to resurface. The last few years, it's been three days here and there. But yesterday, I turned the thoughts around after just a few hours. And today, same thing.

I realized something beautiful:  where before I was overcome (I'm so used to spiraling there when it happens, it's almost second nature), now I have power over these thoughts, these feelings, no matter how difficult they seem, and I'm much stronger than I ever realized. Still working on it, but it seems like a breakthrough of sorts.

Through some really hard trudging, I find that I'm winning. Amazing. I no longer feel a victim to the dark. When it works, when I stop the thoughts and make myself exist in the moment and experience a true present, I feel empowered.

Nature has played a big part in this discovery. When walking in nature, when the focus is turned to the little things of the moment, it is impossible to delve into a dark past or ominous future. Instead, I focus on the details, and I see the raindrops on the leaves, my friend Argo the dog, the storm clouds rolling in, the ponytail man smoking a Clove, the man working on his thesis or something enormous in the window of a Subway, and the true, soulful look of another human who has been to the darkness like me. I see the sun peeking through, the robins and cicadas, and the lost wire wheel on the side of the road. I see the bumper sticker that reads, "Honk if parts fall off," and then I think, This morning, I was bed-crying, and a few hours later, here I am, laughing again.

I love that saying, This too shall pass. Aye, it is true.

Today's Truth:  if you're having a dark day, just remember, it'll eventually turn around, and with practice, like everything else, there can be great change and progress. Hang in there, and soon, you'll be laughing again. Come with me.

Love and hope,
C.A. MacConnell

Photo: One Feather

One Feather

Morning thoughts upon waking:

If I weren't so short, and if I even knew how to play volleyball, and if I weren't so awful at my few attempts to play volleyball, I would be the best Olympic beach volleyball player in the world.

Never mind. I wouldn't like the feel of all that sand; I would want a personal groom to hose me off between points. Is that possible?

I am 42 today, and I am doing my final run-through on my book, so it's my present to me, and happy birthday to me, it is really unbelievable that I am here; I am lucky to be alive.

It's Sean Penn's birthday as well. Wonder what he's doing right now. Maybe playing beach volleyball.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Goal

Goal

Hi there. Took this about an hour ago, while in a rainstorm. :) I dig it. Goals can change, eh? What seems like the goal at first may turn into something else. And if I look too close, I don't see the bigger picture.

Also, there's something to be said for Pringles -- same chips, same can, still around after all these years. Now where's my other Pringle? I'm really not as obsessed with true love as I probably come across on this blog, ha. But yesterday, I did hear a woman say that it's not real, that it's a "fairy tale romance" idea. Well, I think she's a fucker.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Antiques

Antiques

This is one of my favorite photos I've taken. I hope you smile when you see it, like I do.

Time to get to work,

C.A. MacConnell

Shavings

Hand me a bandage. Earlier, I cut myself;
we are forever blending into some couch.
You are made of smog, smoke, fog, steam.
You are dust. You are an intangible buffet,
a cirrus cloud, a vast scab, a gorgeous vapor.
Your shoulders are static rather than bone.

Something hangs between us – a fight never
fought, a loss never lost, and the irresistible,
makeup screw. To our mad, silent lives --
from the dirtiest laundry to the lightest
sheets. Sometimes, I see your shavings.
Cutting the quiet in two, sound is our knife.

I see our small house, white paint peeling
on the left, the heart side. I see you call
the painter. I see me call the gutter man.
I see our swing, our kitchen, our late night
dinner -- orange, fake fish on green plates,
no napkin, bare clean kitchen, the scent of it.

The table, the imperfect circle. And no matter
how the meal ends -- empty or full, imagined
or real -- even if I could,  even if I should,
I wouldn't take anything back. Hand me
a bandage. I see us sit down at the same
time, sinking into high-backed, black, plastic

chairs, praying and laughing and digging in,
whether or not people need to eat
in heaven.

C.A. MacConnell

What I Think About All of This

Hi, all. I think Mimi is sending me a message from Heaven. So it's 4:30am, and this is what I think about all of this, world:  It is love that makes the impossible possible. -- Indian proverb. Beyond everything, I believe in love. Always have, always will. Sometimes, it's just nice to have a reminder. Ah, fuck.

Other things I believe in:  honesty, faith, willingness, persistence, strength to do the next right thing, transparency, and laughter. Also, I miss kissing and curling up. You know, that stuff's rad too. Just what comes to mind. XO.

Have a lovely day. I'm off to fine tune my book. Hey, this guy reminds me of love every second of every day:



-- C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Relax Love

Relax Love

Today's Truth:  It always works out. I can't always see them in the present, but looking back, I can always see a pattern of true miracles. <3

Be good to you today. We're all just trooping along.
C.A. MacConnell

Trivia Night

Both Grampie, on Mom's side, and Mimi, on Dad's side, had an incredible gift when it came to memory. I've heard them termed "photographic." Grampie could write a sermon, look at it once, and remember the entire, one-hour-long talk word for word, quotes and all. Mimi remembered everything; she was particularly knowledgeable about family history, current family happenings, sports, and...well...everything else in the world, from politics to religion to animated movies to "Who was on the Wheaties cereal box back in 1992?" Mimi would pause, put a hand at her chin, and say, "Oh, I dunno, Chris, probably the Dallas Cowboys?" Yes.

It was truly amazing. Whenever anyone in my extended family had a question that he/she couldn't answer, Mimi would always get a call. No matter on the subject; she always knew the answer. Of course, this was before the days of Google and such, and Mimi was a walking encyclopedia. My family didn't need internet searches. We called Mimi.

Well, later in life, Mimi lived in a nursing home, and they had an ultra-important, gently raucous, intense Trivia Night each week. Over time, the other residents clued in on Mimi's spectacular sponge mind, and her knack for facts, so they fought to have her on their team each week, because no matter what, if Mimi was on the team, the team won. In the home, people even started to get all riled up because of it. They thought she was cheating, and they couldn't believe how much she knew. When Mimi came to Trivia Night, there occurred mild fights involving gin, wine, walkers, and canes, and later, there was a full-on, candy-throwing uproar about whose team she would be on.

So this morning, my sister sent me a text reminding me of the time when one week at the nursing home, the residents, her buddies (who saved up bottles of wine from the cafeteria specifically for Trivia Night), decided to try and test Mimi by having a category called, "Current Musicians," and as Trivia Night progressed, no one knew any of the answers, so it started out rather dull, but when it came to be Mimi's turn, the question was, "What rapper's 1995 debut album Conspiracy debuted at Number Eight on the Billboard charts?" Mimi shouted out, "L'il Kim!" Everyone in the room was silent. Because...like always...she was absolutely right. Keep in mind that she was about ninety at the time, and she was blind in one eye, but she still read everything she could get her hands on, and she remembered every single fact.

She knew the answer to everything.

Lately, I've been thinking of Mimi a lot. On a grand, selfless scale, throughout her long life, she was one of my biggest supporters. I really feel her with me right now. She'd be proud of the way that I walked right through old trauma in the past two years, and she'd be proud of the new person I've become -- stronger and wiser, focused on a bigger picture, focused on my book to come. She'd be more than proud. She would lift me up. Actually, I think she's been with me in spirit this whole time, sending me answers from Heaven.

"Where there is love there is no darkness." (Right now, if Mimi were here, she would say, "I think I've heard that quote before. It's in the Bible. Paraphrased in John. But now that I think about it, it's also an old Burundian proverb.")

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: ?

Hi, <3
C.A. MacConnell

Old Cindy

On my wall, I have a picture of Cindy, the miniature horse. She's an old girl, up in her years, but she is well-groomed (spotless, actually), in great care, and she's as precious and gentle as they come. Due to her age, she has her issues, but her owner is a loving, experienced fellow, and his care of her is "nonstop;" he's adamant about medical attention, turnout, and the like. These facts are clear to me, because I spent quite some time chatting with him one day, and I could tell that he was on a true, right mission. Cindy only "works" (has photos taken while he feeds her carrots) a few weekends out of the summer. During this time, she makes countless people smile -- adults and children -- and her look is one of quiet peace. It's in the eyes. The rest of the time, she lives in her field with the other minis. Not a bad life for old Cindy. Her coloring and soft hair remind me of a marshmallow.

Every time I glance at this picture, I think of these things:  try to be well-groomed (ha), be gentle, be humble, love, enjoy life, take care of others, take care of every creature around. And it makes me think of the times when I haven't been like this, and it reminds me to strive to do it all better.

I'm human. I make decisions, both ridiculous and right-on. For me, these days, its not about my wild thoughts or intense feelings, it's about what I do with them later. I know that my growth, my recovery, comes from the action that I take next. A great warrior is gentle. A great medicine man is humble, and he lives and breathes inside the people, among them, not above them. These are grand goals, these selfless ways, but it's something to think about, something for which to reach; that's how I see it.

How can I offer a subtle gesture of kindness today? How can I make someone smile? Maybe my trip downtown to see a band was just so that I could give a homeless woman a cold drink. Maybe my desire to get books out there are so that I can have a signing and shake someone's hand, meet a new friend, change a life, who knows. How can I be a part of things today, rather than living in my individual, closed world? That's my version of spirituality, or God, as people say.

Cindy lives to make people smile. How can I follow her soft, gentle lead? Being gentle doesn't mean I'm weak. Gentleness allows for a quiet, inner strength to shine through. When I am gentle, I can hear the love of my life talking back.

Not a bad life for old Cindy.

I don't know about you, but I love you,
C.A. MacConnell