Ripe Peach

Ripe Peach.  Ripe Peach.  Ripe Peach.  So before I simply dive into this deliciously scary business of sharing my ponderings with strangers, perhaps a little explanation as to where we might be going could be good.  Perhaps it’s  best, on the other hand, to let it unfold as it will so that we can go anywhere at all, leaving all who visit here to project what they will onto those two words—yes, yes—a little mystery to intrigue.  Oh, alright, then, maybe just a few words.  But not about what this is going to be about; rather, what it definitely is not going to be about.  This is not going to be about how to create a nook in your kitchen where you can sit and write bills and do all manner of productive things.  It’s not going to be about how to make darling Christmas decorations out of simple household items.  It’s not going to be about how to finally get organized, or create a budget, or plan the very best vacation ever, or anything remotely like any of the above because I am sick, sick, sick of hearing about all of that stuff and furthermore, it distracts me from the thing I’m really interested in.  And what, you might ask, would that be?  Well, in fact it is being.  What?  Yes.  Being.  I am fascinated with this whole setup we refer to as life, and always have been.  In fact, I remember being really little and wondering why and how everyone around me seemed to be so caught up in doing all kinds of things—constantly trimming growing things that would just grow again; trying to get balls into holes in the ground, through hoops, over fences; cleaning things and making them dirty again and never ever seeming to wonder about the—don’t know what else to call it—the setup, you know?

And here is a good place for me to make a confession, just so you know where I’m coming from.  I am a somewhat reluctant do-er although the circumstances of my life have caused me to get caught up in doings of all sorts.  I was the child who was always disappointed while vacationing with my family when we actually arrived at our destination and I had to get out of the car.  In fact, that I’ve managed to put this little effort together that you’re reading right now has surprised me and has constituted quite a bit of doing on my part when it was so much fun to just dream about doing it.  But the cool thing for me is that the thing I’m doing is exploring being.  When I say that, I’m not referring to just sitting like a bump all day—well, sometimes I might be referring somewhat to that.  What I’m really talking about is noticing the way life works—patterns that repeat and seem to give clues as to its underlying structure and the rules that govern it-- rather than getting caught up in simply moving about doing things that we’ve been told are very good, very useful, to be doing.  But enough—I think you know where I’m coming from even if you don’t know where I’m going.

The truth is, I’m a discloser, even though I admire those who aren’t.  So back to the name of this blog, which I had hoped to keep shrouded in mystery such that higher and deeper and more meaningful meaning might have been ascribed to it.  It is in fact pretty low and down to earth.  Peach was my nickname when I was small.  I am no longer so small (hah—literally as well as figuratively!) and life has ripened me.  Then again, I think of life itself as a big, ripe peach—full and juicy and delicious, but with some bruises and the inevitable pit.