It all comes together.

Overcoming a virus, the Jewish New Year, a trip up the Hudson to the Bear Mountain Oktoberfest, the meeting in Briarwood Queens, home of Samaritan Village’s corporate headquarters from which I left with my retirement determined, the training in working with people with extensive childhood trauma, the legitimate possibility of per diem psychotherapy work at Postgraduate Center for Mental Health and the purchase of a new (Diamond Back) commuter bicycle–one with front shock absorbers to minimize the aches in my forearms.

And then there’s the image and words above, the first Rosh Hashonah card I’ve ever sent.  The photo was made from that Circle Line boat taking us to Bear Mountain as it passed under the George Washington Bridge.  The words fell out of my head without my having actually thought of them.

That sort of thing happens to me more and more frequently: stuff coming from somewhere deeper than my brain, bypassing the thinking process altogether, then making itself known to me at the same instant it finds its way into the ears of the world.  A spontaneous outpouring–not unlike the sunlight above the bridge (I don’t remember seeing that!) in the photo–of the me I hope will become more visible and commanding as I continue alive.

And it’s everywhere:

Sometimes it shows up when, riding the bike toward a destination, I turn–unprovoked–into a side street toward I don’t know or particularly care what.

  • Sometimes it’s walking into an unknown movie theater only because the show’s about to start.
  • Sometimes it’s about what’s put on top of my pizza.
  • Sometimes it determines which church I walk into.
  • So often it determines when I click the shutter of my camera or the words I write for you to read.
  • Once it chose the woman I am still married to.


What about you?  When has your spontaneity (I call it that only because I don’t want to turn off the atheists by calling it God or even Buddha Nature) raised its chuckling little head and dragged you off into Gee-I-didn’t-think-I’d-go-there.  Put it in a comment after clicking on “Leave a comment” below.





Published in: on September 21, 2012 at 9:50 pm  Comments (3)  

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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. The birth of my children and grandchildren.


  2. Is this the last job I’ll ever have? Is this the last place in which I’ll ever live? Is this the last car I’ll ever drive? If it is all or only part of the above, I could live with it. There are ways of making life interesting by creatively dancing around that which doesn’t change to enrich one’ life. Bill and I know how to do this and have been dancing in each other’s arms for over 34 years.


  3. Richard, This is a wonderful blogpost, thank you. For me painting is the “spontaneity” that I experience. It’s “no-thinking,” just the color, the feel of the brush on the surface, the process, with a deep concentration to the task at hand. Then, the surprise when I stand back and see just what I have done. How did that shape get there? Where did that shadow come from? It’s great. It’s a mirror. The painting paints me – not the other way around. All good.
    Love, Cathie


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