My Life in Words
My Life in Words
This morning I beat the heat out of the house so my little dog Sweetpea could go with me.
We drove to Coburg Oregon (a quaint little town, known for its antiques), but I wasn’t there for its antiques, I was there for plants. Johnson’s Nursery, one of the largest in the vicinity, exists right outside the town. A couple of weeks ago I had, with my grandson, seen a half dozen evergreen Clematis vines, and thought that one would look good on the arbor that with a little luck will, sometime in the future, exist in our front yard.
Only one of the large evergreen Chemantis that I wanted, was left. I debated. It cost the price of a half dozen plants, so I moved on down the line and stopped at male Kiwi plant. It was lovely. They vine, it would go over the arbor--but male, “For pollinating use only,” it said. So I looked for a female Kiwi companion
And found one.
I put her aside and then questioned if she was the best one and pulled out another.
I felt a deep sadness coming from the first.
I felt so bad I had rejected the one who chose me, that I set back the second plant, and bought the first--along with her pollinating companion, of course.
I’ve been doing a lot of communing with plants this summer, planting, talking to them, watching the garden grow, sitting under the tree in the backyard. I'm sure your have noticed how every single leaf arranges itself to make maximum use of the sunlight. Yes, but isn't it magnificent? One day I watched the leaves of the tree sway with the breeze. All swayed but one single leaf. That leaf that was doing a Sufi dance—spinning like a child’s windmill —dancing to the tune of the wind.
Last night I listened to Joseph Campbell—the real Hero with a Thousand Faces guy interviewed by Bill Moyers on Netflix.
Campbell described what scientists would describe as phototropism where a plant turns its head to follow the sun.
He described that as having consciousness.
In college, they had a long lengthy explanation that describes that phenomenon of the plant turning toward the sun. Chemicals called auxims, cause cells to elongate on the side farthest from the light—they create proton pumps which decrease the PH in the cells on the dark side of the plant, then there are enzymes that break down the cell wall structure so the plant can turn. Or some say there are motor cells that shrink or enlarge as they absorb water.
Someone, somewhere, could describe almost every aspect of our lives, too, as a chemical reaction, enzymes, hormones, stimulus-response, built in DNA coding, those sorts of physical, chemical processes.
However, we aren’t limited by the descriptions placed on us.
We have a consciousness, and according to Campbell, so do plants.
No one has yet to determine the “Spark of Life.”
Let’s all jump on buses, party hardy all the way to Mexico, thousands of buses, school buses, greyhounds, private vehicles—might have to throw some trains in the mix, that’s how I envision it.
When we get there, there will be no stopping us. We’re jazzed. We’re ready to take no prisoners. We’re citizens and we aren’t going to allow this action anymore. No child will be separated from their parents on our watch.
Yes and save your tickets, and your gas stubs, and send them to the White House. They won’t pay them, of course, but it will create a mess for them to clean up the way we need to clean up theirs.
Hey, we’re trying to run our lives here, clean up our act, become successful, happy individuals, and you keep throwing a monkey wrench into the mix. Shame on you.
On the day after Trump’s inauguration, almost three million people marched in protest of his election. It was triple the size of his inauguration crowd.
A lot of good it did.
Protests do work. But boy, they takes guts and tenacity by many people.
Since the 60”s, I’ve had the privilege to see this:
I get teary-eyed remembering this event:
May 25, 1986
Our family jumped on a bus with a load of other lively souls, and were driven out to the desert of Southern California where we joined hands with millions of other Americans to form a chain across America.
“We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let's start giving.”
Hells Angels and nuns, Elvis Impersonators, Abraham Impersonators all stood together as one. And I read that to fill some of the gaps; farmers had their cattle stand hoof-to-hoof.
WE ARE A GOOD GROUP OF PEOPLE!
Hands Across America, 1986
Hey You all,
How about a little help from my friends.
I must sell 200 copies of my book or they will drop me like a S'More too long on the fire.
I’m setting a goal of 200 for one month. That will be June 23.
Find the cheapest book The Frog's Song available, Kindle, physical copy. I don’t care for I’m more interested in book sale numbers than money.
Make sure you get the correct Frog Book, there is one that sells for $135.00.
The Frog's Song by Joyce Davis
I know new books are damn expensive these days, can’t help it, it’s the nature of the printing process.
However, look at it this way:
The Frog’s Song is worth every penny.
It took ten years to hit the shelves!
Ha ha, I love you guys whether you buy or not. People who stop here are the greatest.
'Joyce's travels have taken her beyond the shores of her native continent, but she's back where she started, in Oregon.