I am a pencil person. I even put an extra cap eraser on new pencils. I write more freely knowing my mistakes can be erased.
Why would anyone want to keep their mistakes in plain view? It seems stifling to have to be careful so as not to make permanently visible mistakes.

I did not like the Pen Only rule in chemistry lab. I was insecure enough without being forced to share my mistakes. It seemed mean to make it mandatory to keep messy marked-out methods in my lab book.

The reasoning behind the rule was that one should learn from mistakes. By examining the method used, one could correct mis-steps for a better outcome. This did prove to be of use at times, but all those corrections ruined the neat and orderly appearance of my lab notes.

I did not want anyone to know how many wrong turns it took for me to get to the right place. It was embarrassing to have my scribbles graded along with my data. I suspected that my mess was messier than other students’ messes. I was ashamed of my Pen Only work. It could never be perfect.

I appreciate preserving my methods and mistakes now. I learn more from meandering than from going straight for an answer. There is a lot of wisdom set down on paper in doodling. Mind wandering can discover covered-up treasure.

I still love my erasers. Neatness has its place. But if you are writing something important, you might want to use a pen and keep those booboos handy in case you accidently uncover something magical by mistake.

FLOW

I envision time as a conveyor belt. Babies get born onto the belt, old folks drop off the belt when they die. The rest of us ride along on the belt. Living our lives as we move forward.

The on and off is not really an isolated event. Folks are there to greet the new arrivals. They planned and prepared for more life. Riders on the belt do things that affect others. Those effects do not end when that person drops off the belt.

So there is a beginning before the start and after-effects after the end.

That is a line.

A segment starts at a point and ends abruptly. There is no future beyond the segment’s endpoint. There is nothing else. This is a self-centered point of view.

If you live like a segment, you are in the now and focused on progress and finishing well.

If you live like a line, you appreciate the head-start you were given and feel obligated to leave a legacy for others after you are gone. This is an integrated and interdependent viewpoint. Things are never really about just you.

Which are you?

FLOW

There are pieces of pink and orange ribbon fluttering in the trees.

Trucks drive through the woods.

Workers in hardhats wave as we pass.

Holes are being drilled to find bedrock.

A new bridge is coming.

Where will the foxes go?

What will happen to the coyote den on the hill?

Change is coming to our woods again.

More humans mean less trees and animals.

We do not choose change, but it comes.

Uncertainity is inevitable everywhere.

FLOW

Other mothers painted or shopped or played bridge,
but my mama’s hobby was daddy.
She did read and garden and play the piano,
but mostly she took care of daddy.

She covered his legs with a towel while he napped in the blue chair by the window.
She brought him water while he sat in the swing.
She handwashed his orthopedic hose.
She put out fresh linen for him in the bathroom.
She had to pester him to eat, because he said he couldn’t taste much.

Every week of calendar on the desk was full of Daddy’s appointments.
They both went.
They made trips to the shot doctor, the foot doctor, the diabetes doctor, the arthritis doctor, the cancer doctor and the dentist.

Oh, the dentist!
My daddy still had his own teeth with crowns and bridges and root canals.
I don’t think he liked seeing his mama’s teeth in a glass by her bed.
(I know I didn’t.)
I kept telling him he’d driven another expen$ive car into his mouth.
I guess he just wanted to die with his teeth in.

My daddy held up the sky,
but my mama held up my daddy.

Daddy has been gone for over three years now, but don’t tell mama.

She just saw him in the cafeteria at the home. She said he was babbling and crazy. She needs help finding him to straighten him out. He is confused, she says.

Old habits are hard to break.

Mama has dementia, but everyone else is mixed up…not her.

She calls to tell us to move her car or bring the checkbook so she can write some checks.

She is still in charge of this world she imagines. She will not be distracted from her duties. She will be the boss from her wheelchair and bed. Do not argue with the boss.

She is exhausting and exhausted. Our hearts are weary. This is a tough phase.

FLOW