Notes - a good story, Amorella / two photos

       Mid-afternoon. You had a good bath with the bubbler. You got a haircut from Mary Ann this morning and ran an errand to Home Depot for an in the ceiling bulb replacement about the kitchen sink. You had leftovers for lunch and a fellow from Gilkey Windows stopped out fix the door locker on the patio door in the kitchen. Parts were ordered and he'll be back. This afternoon you stopped at McD's for drinks then a stop at Graeter's, and from there another stop at Mike's Car Wash for the Honda. The weather forecast is for fifty mile an hour wind gusts this afternoon; otherwise a partly cloudy day with the high in the mid-sixties with no rain. Carol is on page 359 of The Last Mile.

       1554 hours. I just noticed a flowering mimosa just to the west of the Whitaker Mausoleum one would have thought I would have noticed that before. In the fifties when Grandma Schick lived on Schreyer Place off High Street in Clintonville she had a 'stick' that grew into a beautiful mimosa between the back of her house and the garage out back. No one else we knew had one. Uncle Jay had brought one back for his mother at her wish from Abilene, Texas where he lived and she had just visited. He said it would never grow in Columbus. This would have been in 1952 I think. Anyway, that mimosa was still thriving in 1979. Shortly after she had to go to a home on Olentangy River Road across from the hospital. Aunt Ruthie inherited the house and sold it. Fond memories as well as a buried impression of a little stick of a tree that grew and thrived in an area far away from its Texas home. I internalized this story as a great lesson to remember always. I combined it with Grandma's continual saying to me from childhood to adulthood, "From the little acorn a mighty Oak grows". I'm more of a stump these days, and never was a mighty Oak, but it was a message to move ever upward.

Mimosa at Rose Hill Cemetery

Mausoleum and Mimosa

(center, far right near corner)

       You aren't a stump, boy, and still have some height and certainly the girth of an Oak, but you are more interested in depth these days; roots and below -- to heartansoulanmind as well as consciousness. In here, in Soki's Choice and the blog consciousness is as the flower developing from the roots of heartansoulanmind. First, however, in here, is the soul. Without the soul, the heartanmind would not grow and potentially flourish. That's how it is in here. The heartanmind are attached, they grow to understand the physical world but their source is enriched by the nonphysical. The enrichment is not as a root but more as an atmosphere, where later, a mature heartansoulanmind might imagine sheorhe was someplace else before physical birth and before Mother or Father. It only takes a hint of imagination to say there might be something to it. Such things cannot be disproved. And in this you see a humor, both dark and light; an angelic-like smile appearing between night and day. - Amorella

       1625 hours. Your little anecdote is as a lesson, not an impartment of wisdom; but a lesson on why it is sometimes good to disperse with logical argument and go with an acceptance of a good story when you hear it.

       Post once you arrive home from the cemetery. - Amorella

       1631 hours. Good word choice here, allowing for further thought and imagination.

       Indeed. - Amorella