A comforting and loving spirit.

The best of times. They are always with me. At my beck and call. These past seven weeks, for instance. My Italian amore has been with me. Here in Minnesota. Now that she’s returned to her Mediterranean island paradise. To resume her career as a teacher of English and English literature. It might be construed as reason to lament. But no, no. Instead, I’ve learned to savor life. And Cristina.  Meaningfully. Because she’s always with me. Inside me. As a living spirit. There for connecting. From near and afar. Doesn’t matter whether we are separated physically. Because we haven’t waited until death to capture each other’s spirits. Better to do it. While still very much alive.  Yes. Yes. We are always together. Even when separated. By an ocean and more. I have learned to embrace Cristina’s essence. Her true and abiding spirit. I put Cristina on a flight yesterday. Back to her homeland. But can’t say that I miss her.  Instead, I am permeated by her comforting and loving spirit. --Jim Broede

My definition of freedom.

I like to occupy my life. With thought. To get up. In the middle of the night. To think about life. In an analytical manner. To figure out. How events connect. And have meaning. Enough to become a story. It’s my way of being creative. Concocting a meaningful life. I find such a pursuit thrilling. I don’t have a compulsion to write a story. Better to live the story.  Of my life. Of my being.  Actual experience. A new living chapter. Every day. Here I am. Trying to understand what I am living. Inside and out. I reflect. On what I was. And what I have become. And what I will be. In a time yet to come. Yes, I have an opportunity. With plenty of built-in leeway. To create/design me.  And my world, too. That is my definition of freedom. --Jim Broede

My amazing goal.

Amazing. Amazing. Simply amazing. When I count the days. That I feel good. About life. And about myself. Of course, there are days. When I feel under the weather. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But those days are few and far between.  Sure, I complain. About politics. And other vagaries. But that’s all right. Yes, another reason to feel good. Even when complaining. About something or other. You may have noticed. That I’ve been posting less in the past six weeks. Because I’m occupied. With my Italian true love. She’s been with me. Here in Minnesota. Since mid-July.  Maybe that’s why I’m feeling especially good. But I feel good even when she’s back in Sardinia. Because we are connected. Daily. On Skype. And by love notes. Amazing, isn’t it? How one can cultivate loving relationships. With the help of modern technology. Some tell me they prefer the olden days. When communication was a slower and more deliberate process. But I like it both ways. I consciously slow down the pace of living. In so very many ways. Because it’s important. To savor life. In slow and slower motion. To make the good things last. Perhaps forever. That’s my goal. --Jim Broede
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Can't shut up.

Sometimes, I have nothing to say. Nothing to write about. So here I am. Trying to prove my point. That I have nothing to say. So I’m declaring it. To make up. For having nothing to say. Yes, I’m never at a loss for words. Perhaps my words sound meaningless. And make no sense.  To others. But they are meaningful. In that they give me a funny feeling. That I am mistaken. When I have absolutely nothing to say. Really, the problem is that I don’t know how to shut up. --Jim Broede

Ah, the wonderful world.

I’m assuming. That we all live in our own little worlds. Havens. Cocoons. Safe harbors. Often by choice. Perhaps by uncontrolled circumstances, too. Yes, stuff happens. That push us in one direction or another. Sometimes, we are at a loss for words. In attempts to describe how we feel. We use the same words. But we define them differently. With different nuances. We frequently misconstrue and misunderstand each other. Reason for me to retreat. To my own little world. For a little while. For respite. For relief. For rejuvenation. Makes sense. Because that is where I am most comfortable. I have nothing against other worlds. Imagined. And real. I visit them. From time to time. As an explorer. That’s how I get a feel. For life. That’s what I am doing. Here in this thread. I’m trying to understand. Everyone. And I’m doing it delightfully. I’m having fun. Not taking offense. Over anything. Agreeing. Disagreeing. In the spirit of camaraderie. Ah, the wonderful world of musings. --Jim Broede

A slow-moving gazelle, am I.

I am a gazelle. In slow motion. Moving gracefully. At a snail’s pace. Caught up. In my own version of tai chi  Mostly internally. In my imagination. In the spirit world. But physically, too. With my Italian amore as the only corroborating witness. In our living room.  She laughs. Yes, she’s amused. So am I. At my new-found way to relax.  Gliding gently through daily life.  I watched. Through a narrow window in a door. Into glass-walled Studio 2. At the local YMCA. Yes, it was a class in tai chi.  With my amore as one of three active participants. I was learning, too. From the outside. Looking in. As an observer. Yes, my favorite method of learning. Away from the masses.  Capturing my own tai chi essence. Not the instructor’s. Or anyone else’s. It was necessary. For me to become an unusual slow-moving gazelle. On my own.  Some day. I will practice. In front of an audience. Perhaps at a comedy club. As part of my stand-up comic routine. It will be the next step. Performing in public.  To welcome laughter. Coming to my ears in ripples of slow motion. --Jim Broede

As long as I am happy.

Seems that everyone lives in a different world. That is, different than mine. Therefore, I  am constantly moving about. Attempting to enter the worlds of others.  For the purpose of exploration. Of these many, many other worlds. Out of simple curiosity. But also, so that I can understand what’s going on.  Outside of me.  In these sometimes alien worlds.  Maybe it’s that I’m creating these other worlds. By consciously separating them. From my own. Imaginatively. When really everything is in my own world. It’s like going from one country to another. At the moment,  I’m living with and  in the world of my Italian amore. Just where I want to be.  Or it could be that she’s come to my world. Maybe she’s the one that’s moving about.  Yes, perhaps she and others are meandering into my world. And I should treat them as honored guests. Maybe it really doesn’t matter. Whether I am coming or going. As long as I’m immersed. In a world. Of one kind or another. In love. With wherever I am. It really doesn’t matter. As long as I am happy. --Jim Broede

As I intimately know it.

The world. What a strange place. North Korea. ISIS. Donald Trump’s America. Syria. Venezuela. Makes one wonder. If we live in a crazy world. Pardon me. If I sound like a pessimist. Living in an insane asylum. Run by the inmates.  When really. Truth be told. I’m living in Paradise. Where I find happiness.  In being in love. With life. As I intimately know it. --Jim Broede

In my quest.

I analyze situations. And life, in general. By trying to catch the vibes. Mostly of the moment. My gut instinct. Or by connecting with the surrounding spirits. Perhaps my guiding angel. I carry on a continuing conversation. With myself. And others. Real and imagined. Often, that makes me feel delightful. With it. Informed. I am probing. From inside. And outside. Maybe even in other dimensions. Beyond human understanding. I insist. That there be no limits. In my quest for happiness and well-being. --Jim Broede

Without limits.

We are all here. Because we are learning. To believe what we dearly want to believe. In our own unique ways. We even dare dream in the impossible. Yes, dreams that keep us going. Keep us alive. And vibrant. And in love. With the durability of life. We are true believers. In the impossible. And that makes everything possible.  Yes, we are free to dream.  Without limits. That is our saving grace. --Jim Broede

Compelled.

I blame the people who voted for Donald Trump. For the political debacle wrought by Trump. Hard for me to feel kindly. Towards Trump. But my sour taste also applies to his supporters, including my sister and several friends. Makes me wonder how they could be so dumb. Of course, that’s not a nice thing to say.  Especially about people close to me. But I say it anyway. Because that’s the way I feel. Might as well not lie about it. I’d not intentionally break up the friendships over political matters. Though I take that risk. By telling them that they’ve made a big mistake. That Trump is a jerk and a good-for-nothing liar. That he could be the ruination of our nation.  Sorry about that, dear sister and friends. But I am compelled to speak out. Rather than remain quiet. –Jim Broede

No matter.

So much of life is shared intimacies. With only one other. A true love. That is the one that knows me the best. But still doesn’t know all. Because I don’t even know all. About myself. I’m learning. At virtually every moment. New and profound stuff. I am in constant motion. Never static. Which means that it’s difficult gauging.  Where I am at. Or who I am. At any given moment. Martin Buber, an Austrian-born Israeli Jewish philosopher, has an interesting theory/concept. That people who tend to be more conservative than liberal in their ways. Find constant evolution. Of one’s being. To be uncomfortable. They want to know precisely where one is at. At any given moment.  I’m more liberal than conservative. Doesn’t bother me. If I don’t know where I am. Or who I am. Yes, I enjoy the imprecision of life. After all, life is a journey.  That may never end. I am always on the move. In perpetual motion.  Therefore, it really doesn’t matter who or what I am. All I need know. Is that I am. Fully capable of savoring life. No matter where or what the situation. --Jim Broede