To Errol is Human

     Rochelle and I continue to live in our clothing optional community, although as winter comes, the optional part is not so enticing.      We've just moved into our little cabin in the woods, which could be our home for quite awhile, though, if we don't get a door to separate the bedroom/kitchen from the bathroom, Rochelle is out of here.      We live in 110 acres of pristine nature (what nature isn't pristine? And i constantly have to push the herd of deer out of the way so I can have my turn at grazing on our lawn)      Just recently I discovered a trail on the property that goes along a creek. I'm looking forward to the rains when I suspect the creek will be running and I along with it. And, since it is my nature to jump naked into a stream, ocean or river, I will take a plunge.       Speaking of plunge, we've been plunged into a community of people--staff, guests, members, residents, interlopers, etc. that feels like we're living in a combination of

       Since several people were offended by my last blog, I wanted to apologize to those "offendees" if my remarks felt insulting.      On the other hand, any conflict is an opportunity for growth, or at least for humor and so I encourage those offended to muster up their courage and come talk to me.  I try to be sensitive, but like the offended, I too, often come up short and make mistakes.      We live in a system, both our home/work environment and our world that is crying out for help and solutions to thorny, complex and daunting problems.  The opportunity here is to rise up (at least a little) from our ego perspective and see how any changes that we might be able to make within ourselves can be helpful to the growth of the whole.      So, I say to those who may have felt challenged by my remarks, bring it on.  Let's see how we can help each other improve, so that the next time, when there is an inadvertent offense, we will be able to use it as an opportunity t

           After spending the last 4 weeks at my clothing optional "paradise," I'm ready to report on my findings...or at least my impressions.      I was sitting in the hot tub with a few other naked people several nights ago, 2 of which were athletes--a young woman getting ready for her body-building show and a young man who was a mixed boxer or whatever they call those people who employ their hands, feet, head, elbows and genitals to beat the shit out of their opponent--and an older plus size lady.      There it was--the juxtaposition. When they all got out of the tub, I saw the extremes of the human physical condition. But here's the rub (pun intended), they were all very gracious, friendly and affable.  So, if I put judgment aside, I was sitting in the midst of an all-together (also pun intended) fine group of human beings.      My community (fast becoming my family) is characterized by dramatic contrasts.  First of all, there is the environment--120 acres

"Clothing optional"  I love the sound of those words. Why? Because I have the belief that if you don't need to wear clothes, why wear them? And when I found out that my new home is in fact, clothing optional, I was delighted." "But wait, isn't everybody's home clothing optional," you might ask. Well, yes, but not as "clothing optional" as a Naturist Resort. A few months ago, when Rochelle and I were liberated from our home in Fairfax, CA by the mortgage company (to the horror of many of our friends, for whom the thought of being homeless at our age was, well.....horrifying.), I was curious as to where we would  end up  live before we end up. After moving 15 times +  since May 5, eager to find a home, we've landed at a Naturist Resort where we have found, not only a home-modest though a Yurt may be-but a whole community/system/business that apparently needs our help and our particular talents and gifts--The Naturist "colon

I'm in a paradox This is a poem I wrote many years ago.  it's coming back to haunt me. I AM ALONE  I am alone, an orphan. I wander, shabby, in a cave or on a street... in a car...or at 7-11. I wander alone in the nightclub listening to the barkers' call beckoning me out of my aloneness with their vacant voices into open doors that reveal nothing that I haven't already known... titillations, like pain, to make me feel alive. when actually... I am alone. My movements are linear, along forgotten railroad tracks and empty streets that pass a long way from oasis or automobile stops with hamburgers and cheap gas. I am alone, a wanderer in time, isolated, a little ball... no orbit, just spinning out in space, no nucleus to hold me, no gravity stops. I sit on bar stools, desk chairs, and factory trucks turning over soil with no minerals in it... delusions of real manure.... I am alone. It's curious to me that while I don

When you find yourself getting frustrated, when you get pissed off because you can’t get no satisfaction, when your exasperation level is about to reach depth con 5, don’t blow a circuit, don’t throw your baby out the window, and don’t destroy your cell phone when you’ve been on hold for an hour and a half.   No, friends, don’t kill the messenger when you can drop by “ Buck Stops Here Complaint Department.”   We’ve got a person on call 24/7 to hear your complaints so you can experience that enormous sense of relief that comes from dumping on someone who won’t make excuses, try to justify, rationalize, equivocate, project or mollify your well deserved rage.   Our trained complaint technicians won’t blame you back or hold you accountable.   You can rant and rave to your heart’s content Our registered complaint technician won’t put you on hold, disconnect you or make you wait in line. She’ll nod in agreement and make you feel like everyone else is a stupid idiot but you.   As a li

THE VOID by E. Strider It looms before me like some amorphous monster --that unknown non-place, non-thing, non-being beyond the opaque familiar So, I hide in my pain. At least I know what that's all about-- Anything to avoid the might-not-be-anything state that might not even be a state. I clutch at my old car and furniture, burn holes in my rug with the same old brand; ask to be thrown a line from a waiting ship before I leave this sinking one... Prove to me clearly, if you can that something exists on the other side of the fog. Yeah, yeah, they said Jesus came back from the void, but you can't be sure. Hell, No!   I won't kill myself! This is it.   This is what I've got. I don't care if it is exploding, Don't you dare unplug me!   I've studied A Course in Miracles since 1977 and am very aware of the ploys and machinations of the ego--the part of the mind that defines itself by separation. But