Stuff - Nov. 5th

The November Ridding Self of Stuff number stands at 35.

No, you cannot tell anything is gone. But I can. Because now I know how dusty parts of the CD collection are. And some music I can part with. And some music I cannot. Yet. 

Simply the considering of Stay Or Go exercises the brain in the out-of-rut way we need from time to time. The "oh, I  didn't know we owned this." The "well, I liked this at the time, but but enough  to keep it now." The "I remember not owning any CDs because I just liked records (I still have to sort through records....)."

We shall not speak of letting go of books yet this go round. Though we have removed boxes of books in the past. Music can be had in many forms. Radio, on-line, humming. But books.... Books are my semi-cigarettes. I should be reading instead of typing. If read, at least a book can be considered for a Little Free Library. But the potential learning still on the shelf... (my stuff is almost all non-fiction), well, there's "Endurance," and "Rodin on Art" ( yes. I know there are you Rodin dislikers out there, but I still want to see what he says), and "The Findhorn Garden." And many others. The library here is only of medium size, but I do not bring home books lightly. Still, we always know there are "too many."

Now it's time to set back the clocks, listen to "On Being" on a public station, and see what adventures the day brings. Oh, that it would bring Sunshine, but that is a thing removed from our world here in this part of Minnesota.

It was 6 A.M. (to me) an hour ago - and now it is "really" 6 A.M.
Too much stuff? Not enough? Just enough? Perception is a tricky thing. We have to consider even our thoughts and judge them after thinking. Good Luck!

Fare-thee-well,
Sue

The Day After

The day after Thanksgiving Day finds me picking up a different guitar and attempting to remember simple chords and country songs from long ago. I was never a "good" player, but spent enough hours being bad that I sure can appreciate the great guitarists of olden days and now. The ones who play like fast calm butter. the ones who simply become the music. I can't do that.

We also have a really good banjo. Garage sales can be mystical things...  So THAT beastie is waiting it's turn to be tortured by my hands.

I LOVE music. But am not good at making it. Brain, eyes, and hands do not cooperate. Begged to stop taking piano lessons at age thirteen. Permission granted. Tortured grand-school music teach during clarinet lessons. Mostly all I recall is never making it past squawking sounds AND breaking way too many reeds. Sorry, Mom, we need more reeds... That year's experience is usually shoved WAY BACK in brain's many dark drawers. When art career begin I drew a clarinet as greeting card. Text: She preferred Death to going on with the clarinet. (Sold it quite quickly - I have soul mates...)

In between I was spending a teen-aged week with Uncle Dave and Aunt Martha. Uncle Dave sort of "forced" me to learn a few chords on his 12-string guitar. I could do "Proud Mary." Later, from high school graduation money I bought myself a guitar as present. Sadly, it was not one that wanted to stay in tune, but it got me through many a James Taylor  and Bob Dylan tune, and us through some 4-H accompanying stints. ("Goodbye, Old Paint" is a song I may never sing or play again.) That guitar taught me that rum and cokes can "tune" a guitar, but only as long is under the influence of rum and cokes.

Years passed. I started watching YouTube videos of great guitarists - blues, classical, Mark Knopfler playing with Chet Atkins, etc etc.

It is time to return to learning. Just for fun. And me. I pity that new guitar; and yes, the old one will be a garage sale or flea-market offering (priced accordingly) so I pity it's new owner a little.

Time to move forward into this grey day. Re-learned chords to "The House of the Rising Sun" this morning. Life is slightly better.

Dare to Learn/DO something New today? On to the Adventure!

Fare-thee-well,
Sue