I was driving out to the golf course the other day by way of the back road and some where in the country, I looked up in the sky toward the southwest and saw a line of small clouds almost in a perfectly straight line, just a little offset here and there. Trees blocked my view a little but when I crossed the 4 way stop and proceeded toward Baptist Corners, I had an unobstructed view of the sky and the line of clouds. The first thing I thought of was this line of clouds represented the line of the chakras. The clouds were of various sizes, but were almost shaped entirely alike, with a few hard edges a little round an a little square. The shading made patterns in each cloud in the line and I counted 14 in all.

I feel like my chakras are balanced, or as close to it as I am going to get. The only problem is I am very tired all of a sudden, and need some energy to fill the void created inside me recently by letting go of so many things.

I reminded me or the time after Uncle Willy that lousy bastard died, and we were all wondering what he was going to do with his money. Uncle Willy was a miserable old bachelor who never had a good word to say about anyone or anything. All he ever did was try to run me down and make me feel inadequate and inconsequential. I could have become a 4 star general and he would have berated me for not becoming President.  I have to ask the question, “What the fuck did I ever do to deserve such wonderful relatives and friends in my life?” Anyway, I was driving home from the golf course and looked off into the sky above the lake, and saw written in cloud script, in big block letters the word “SHAT.” That is in Uncle Willy upstate New York accent talk the word SHIT. It was funny because the thought of his dying and all that other stuff was just crossing my mine as I clearly recognized the word SHAT written across the sky. I guess that meant I was getting shit, and that is exactly what I got from him in ever way, shape, and form imaginable. Our dog Murphy found Willy’s tombstone one day during our Sunday afternoon run in the cemetery. I turned around and saw Willy’s name right over the top of the dog’s head. I said something like “so here you are your rotten son-of-a-bitch”, after which I proceeded to invoke a barrage of curse words worthy of praise from a drunken sailor. I would visit his brave every time Murphy and I would go to the cemetery and unleash my barrage for the day until I didn’t feel the need to swear at him anymore. Oh well he is dead and I am here.

Chakras In The Sky