Simply not here



The flowing appearances of life are impermanent.

They arise briefly (sometimes for a millennium in the appearance of a white-capped mountain) and then they disappear.

One moment we’re cuddling our fuzzy-headed cooing infant; the next moment she’s walking down the aisle in a wedding gown.

One moment we’re throwing a football with Dad; the next he’s dozing in an overstuffed chair meeting death’s gaze.

A frozen snow-capped apple hangs precariously from a winter branch.  Wind arises; apple drops to the earth. Last year’s fawn eats it.  So precious; so fleeting.

Everything that appears disappears.  We tend to forget this in our desire to keep life stable and secure.

Our friends come and go.  Our interests rise, peak and wane. A thunderstorm shatters the heavens; sunshine drenches the meadows.  Breath rises and falls.  We try to grasp these flowing appearances in our hand, but they’re so often gone, gone, gone…

It’s time for this little blog, Simply Here, to melt back into the nothing & everything that birthed her.

Words can be the most fragile of fleeting appearances, can’t they?

Thank you for reading these past five or six years.  May you be blessed by what never changes, never disappears, never births.  May each of us learn the truth of what we are, if Life nudges us in this directionless direction.

Much love…

Fondly, yet another mask of your very own self



27 thoughts on “Simply not here

  1. The ebb and flow of life, like breath, in and out, day and night, life and death, all beginnings and endings, endings that never end only evolve…

    Love you,
    Thank you for sharing the wisdom of your journey !

  2. OH! I had gone all excited to ‘converse’ with you again with your posts of the last few days too! yay for the burst of passion–i think i mean expectation 🙂

  3. You may come and go, but the essence of your writings/teachings remain near to my heart. And I am all the better for it…so is the world at large! Blessings, and thank you. Thank you, thank you.

  4. Thank you for letting us know. Even so, I will hope that I may yet avail myself once again with access to your talent for the written word in some other form some day in eternity. Fondly !!

    • Barbara, I may be blogging again elsewhere after a time. Will try to let you know when and if that happens. I know you are dearly interested in this subject as well. Much love & gratitude!

  5. Surprised, and clearly sense wanting to hold on………….this is the first blog I regularly read, and allowed to be touched by. Wanting to censor what comes up………..which is all sorts of stories about this change. Of course this last post above makes it so clear, what is alive in you. Noticing how I have resisted these steps of closure, letting go, allowing space for something new……..and often just stopped nurturing projects, neglecting them, and letting them stand there “as is” …………..remembering the many books that I have collected, and stored in various places, and just not wanting to let go. So thank you, Kathy, both for the touching writing and for modeling a way of letting go and moving on. May our paths cross again…………as if we were parting ways ;-)……………and yet, that is what it feels like. So rich, to notice the myriad of thoughts and feelings we fabricate and create, to let them go and make room for the next breath, the next paragraph, the next chapter, the next book………..and the the question of questions, what happens when we leave this body? Well, you are just closing this blog, not leaving the body at this time ;-)………………would love to stay in touch, Kathy, and THANKS for all the genuine sharing! (still couldn’t help but checking the box below “Notify me of new posts via email”………………(smile).

    • Thank you so much Peter for your reading, and getting to know you a little bit over the past few months. Such a process of witnessing thoughts arising, letting them all exist, seeing how they really aren’t who we are. So many stories! Watching my father so ill and possibly preparing to transition, I watch many thoughts and feelings arise this past week. Every time the mind labels anything, it feels one step removed from the alive experience of just being. Last night was so tired and watched lots of challenged thoughts arise, and suddenly there was a moment where it all just dropped into a sense of compassion. Many blessings to you…thank you again.

      • Thank you Kathy, even though I resonate with your feelings regarding to your father’s illness, …………….you know, I am saying this……….and just caught myself in “automatic mode”……….so shifting gears: You might be feeling immersed in what is happening for you right now in your immediate environment, and felt that it was time closing this “open loop” (the blog”) so you can be fully there in what is happening and arising in you? – at your leisure, if you feel drawn to sharing: When those challenging thoughts arise, are you (or did you in your example above) just “ride it out” and arrived at “compassion”………….was it compassion with yourself, your dad or both? – Warmly,


        • Peter, in that particular instance I stayed witnessing ego’s thoughts and opinions and emotional pain for a long time without identifying with them as “mine”. Kept feeling the larger awareness which surrounded ego. Suddenly the area around the heart shifted into more openness and a gentle compassion arose for everything. There was no sense of compassion for me or my dad…rather that compassion or love was the very background of everything. At least that’s how it felt in the middle of last night. Hope this is helpful.

  6. Wishing you joy and peace as your feet/heart/mind find the next path
    I will miss reading your thoughts, always looking for what was not being said…
    Truth being that I often wondered if you were running from all the folk, like me, who grasped at the hem of your garment…
    Travel lighthearted, Kathy, never look back.

    • …………….[big smile]……..this is so wonderfully put, and made me laugh, AND, wonder too what *really* is prompting Kathy to close the blog: “………I often wondered if you were running from all the folk, like me, who grasped at the hem of your garment…”

      • Peter, I do not know you, but in my opinion Kathy has been “running” for a while now. I hope she finds whatever it is she is looking for…the end of life is simply a new beginning…I liked what you said about evolving….when we are born we begin to die…losing a father is very difficult….I know…watching him die was even harder….there were times I just wanted it to be over for him and then I felt guilty for feeling that way and then there was the guilt of not having lived each moment to the fullest while he was here on this plane…….
        I shall find your blog and follow….I think I just made mine “private”
        I run away lots🙂
        Rambling thoughts.

        • How sweet to experience this Christmas Eve morning connection: …………In some way I have been running all my life: Typically, when the going got tough, my exposed buttons got pressed, and I packed up and moved on. Born in Switzerland, the direction was West………….externally. Internally, it was people, jobs, etc. ……………..

          You don’t need to know me to know me ;-)………….you made a connection and shared your sadness and grief about letting your father go, and I was empathizing with that, even though my story with my father is a different one. However, it is nurturing to connect with another, even with a “stranger” which we are to each-other.

          So now, “stranded” in the Southern Cal desert, the veil is lifting, and Kathy’s blog posts are part of that.

          I have dabbled in various blogs, and admired Kathy for attracting a following. In my case, occasionally someone relates to my writing, which is impromptu, spur of the moment………somewhat raw, sometimes not even edited, and flawed with convoluted language.
          Often I quoted others, whom I felt knew more and said it better………….and yes, even my sharing now is evolving, turning more direct and refined.

          Nice to meet you :-).

          Here are some of my (unrefined) musings:

          and more recently (there is not much there yet):

    • Ha, Linda, if anyone thinks the hem of this garment is any more than the hem of their garment–then I think they’ve got the wrong idea altogether! When I read this the other day had to sit for a long time to try to connect with the concept of “running away”. My personal sense has been more of finally stopping from running away. Quite often blogging has been experienced with a sense of running away from life…and the decision to cease blogging (for now) has allowed a more intimate presence with what arises. But your question helped me to connect with a part of self that runs away, with a part of self that isn’t running anymore, and so much more. All of this can be found in all of us, I think. We use so much to run away from the present moment–all sorts of habits and addictions–it’s such a challenge at times.

      As to why I’m closing this blog, there are a lot of stories the mind tells. But the closest thing to truth is that it feels right now. There is no sense of emotional uneasiness, no sense of trying to avoid (although maybe that will be illuminated later). It all just feels so right and clear. And, who knows, another blog-child may arise for a while before it, too, disappears. We never know, do we?

      • Lately, all I do is upset folk with comments possibly not well thought out. Therefore, those days are now past.

        I projected on to you how I feel when I have too many followers or friends. I run away back inside my head.

        Made my blog private. Signed off Facebook. The time I have now will be spent in “finishing” what I need to do.

        Your comments were always kind to me .

        You are choosing your own way. I am running away to a safer place for me.

        My sister always said I had no tact. She is right.

        I do not regret the time I spent reading your blogs. You write really well and your photos were always wonderful. Hopefully, most of my comments were kind.

        Please accept my apology for assuming I could analyze the “why’s”.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s