The Week For Forgetting

In weeklong meditation and in the midst of familiar sights and sounds the conversations reaffirm the past like dreams recalled fondly.

Almost as if commas periods and spaces losetheirsignificance

Refrains.

Chorus.

Codas.

The same points assigned to goals and touchdowns.

As an adult I am left to choose which subcultural myths and legends to pass on magically and mystically.

Which ones to create from a blender of tales swirled together.

Miracles.

Wonders.

Heroes.

After all, what is the truth that makes sense to youth growing up out of pure ignorance?

Must life be bigger than life just because a child wants to know more than we do?

How do we keep traditions and let our children learn the secrets behind myths that contain mistakes that kicked off a subculture's perpetual traditiontelling?

Ask one to be one?

Or be happy in our ignornce (trusting in one's faith)?

I have no children so in my meditation I stay, not required to reveal myths or keep the flame of faith alive.

That is what the holiday meditation has taught me this year: not to interfere with happiness of others, no matter what they believe or talk about, because they have found the thought set based on a unique state of energy mix that works best for their environmental conditions.

May I find the humbleness to keep quiet in 2011 and focus on my lifelong journey toward death in a healthier body, reducing my consumption of food I don't need and goods I don't want.

I have communicated to anonymous readers the filtered thoughts that've found their way onto "paper" like this through the years.

The older I get, the more frequent does life break down into its component parts to me. Let the world have its myths, legends, religions, literary/sports heroes...

In a dream or vision, I saw us as our states of energy landing on an unidentifiable planetoid leaving our legacy in the form of a stowaway bacterial lifeform that survived after we perished, representing us to other lifeforms passing by on the way to what we imagine is another universe [thousands or millions of years later than today?].

Hardly a high-volume, marketable product, is it?

Now you know why I seek to silence my voice in the future.

There is nothing more I can add to our multicultural global socioeconomopolitical entity we call our species in this solar system.

I wanted more knowledge about what will become of us and got what I asked for. Early happy Christmas to me, huh?

In this season when we find our own way to celebrate the renewal of life as seen from the Northern Hemisphere, I bid you good day.

My time with you here has come to a close. The Committee of 7.5 is looking for a new spokesperson, if you're interested in an impossible job to perform (it comes with no description, no pay, no perks/bonuses and very picky bosses to satisfy (as well as seven billion customers with seven billion different needs!) but it's a lot of fun as long as you want to keep the job).

On Meditation

Sitting here is humbling. To be alive at the same time as about seven billion members of our species is all any of us can be.

Fruitarians, carnivores and omnivores converting states of energy.

Chemical bonds. Disconnected theories of everything.

Seven billion blind trying to describe the elephant in the living room.

Sightless and yet having the gift of sight.

Surfing the crests down to the troughs and over the boughs while tying bows of infinite loops on ships' bows.

Spare time to change the spare tyre.

Independent third parties.

Furniture polish.

Kimonos over cowboy boots.

TransSiberian Chinese highspeed rails.

Genuine high quality Cuban cigars.

If birds are free to fly 'round the world, why aren't we?

Happy that the Amis Mill Eatery will have a wonderful New Year's Eve and New Year's Day celebration; that Arby's serves roasted rather than fried beef; that Food City is still a hometown favourite; that integrity is still an important concept to young people; that dreams are enigmas sometimes.

Fortunate that one can enjoy simple pleasures without the need for reading subtle body language or cynic tones clouding the moment.

Overcoming the predator-prey dilemma to get us out of the materialistic envy cycle and on to the next really, really great thing.

One planet at a time.

[Starting with ours, of course.]

Are you committed to victory for all of us? You are now.

...as waters cover the sea

While I meditate, I enjoy the gift of service that others freely, joyously, unselfishly share with me this time of year:

Patricia Rhoton, Pastor White, Afton Stewart, Rebecca George, Rex Ennis, David White, Andrea White, Madison Price, Bill Phillips, Earline Price, William Phillips, Mary Ellen Elkins, Sarah Klepper LeRoy, Tammy Lyons, Terry George, Chad Hill, Chancel Choir, St. Andrew's Choir, Higher Sounds Handbells, ushers and Sue Livesay.

The Joy Gift Service of Nine Lessons and Carols.

Flutes like angels singing in the balcony. Violin and piano duet like a heavenly stream or waterfall. Rearranged hymns. Solos that go so low and so high, I'm flushed with envy.

Raising money for the Christmas Joy Offering, 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian Board of Pensions and 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian racial ethnic schools and colleges (per the General Assembly Mission Council handout).

Teaching traditions.

Christmas versus/and other family-based holidays.

Sometimes, caught up in the noise and haste of modern life, I forget that family and friends are all that matters.

That's why these moments of meditation are important.

Otherwise, I'd get lost in the international games we play, that move millions and billions around like faceless chips on a gambling table.

We can still do that, but let's get to know each other before we take risks with our neighbours' lives.

Let us pray...

2 spoons & 1 fork

If a black cat crosses your path and you don't know it, is it still bad luck?

Does anybody remember Frank O'Rourke?

What do a toilet handle and cat food have in common?

Thanks to: Debra and other friendly faces at VBC; Gully's team of Santa's elves; Andrea P at Cuts By Us; Amp at Red Robin; Petsmart; Jon at Rave; all the workers at Madison Square Mall, Hobby Lobby, Hibbett's, and the stores in the old Hills shopping center; the scared cashier at Walmart gas station; U.S. Special Forces; studious college students, friends and family.

Time to meditate offline for a few days.

Much to consider...

litter stock ack

Are you a remake or a sequel?

Don't all of us have that question to answer?

Are we following in our parents' footsteps or creating a new path?

My thought set leans against others constantly, absorbing through porous contacts the thoughts and actions of those around me.

Sometimes I'm fully aware of why I do what I do that seems [to be] in sync with others, and sometimes I'm barely aware why I act out a sequence of events that I would not normally perform if I was away from the mainstream.

To put myself out there all the time, loving everyone without qualification, no limits, like there is no next moment, seeing all they want me and don't want me to see, puts off some people.

It's like a river running into a boulder or bend in the landscape, flowing along anyway, changing course to fit the immovable channel contour presented to it.

There's more I want to say but I can't.

I've encountered a dam.

Now what do I do next?

There's a lot of land that's going to be flooded behind the dam.  I know that much.

Go with the flow, be the flow, pull others along with you.

Pile up behind obstacles.

And then...?

Dark, still waters circulating around, leaving sediment, feeding new organisms, the potential of potential energy finding its potential.

The circle of life, sequels and remakes, alloneandnone.

Monica in Florida, John in Rhode Island and me here - is that the result of our friendship together many years ago?  Are there vectors and traced rays and concentric circles radiating out from the pebbles we threw?

What if we know what we have before it is gone?

I don't see storylines like a young person sees for the very first time, although I try to see the world with childlike wonder.

Is that wisdom?

I forget.

Does seeing Venus in the daytime make me anything other than an object that can recall on a firsthand basis seeing Venus in the daytime?

Should my only guiding thought be "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?

A doo-boppa doo-wop, a biddy bang bong.

Another riff on words in a blog.

That's all this ever was and ever will be.

What life is ultimately all about.

Easy to say, harder to explain: everything goes in a circle, reality is only seven letters.

We learned the words when we were just kids: "Row, row, row your boat...life is but a dream."

Glitter

Cardstock

Stack

Guidance Counselor

We test and tweak and tear apart.

Setting up the initiating points and fuzzy, general areas where we want the second part of the current phase to appear as if it appeared apparitionally, we planted GPS tracking devices on vehicles and personages (some in parsonages).

The data from these devices help us determine the types of personalities likely to react rather than act, act without requiring reaction, or wait for something that will never appear/happen.

Vehicles, for example: a Camry with tag 97931AY that speeds up and follows a faster driver; an auto with tag S 2137A, acting as if on official business while disobeying posted limits, creating a chain of events no one will ever connect, despite historical significance.

Persons: the shopper who was allowed to swap price tags and will be called on to betray family/friends; the person who anonymously cleaned a disabled elder's house and will be duly rewarded anonymously to improve general economic conditions.

We can get seduced into believing our effect on the future and forget how to live right now.

"I told you so" is a phrase born out of narcissistic vanity.

Individuals do not exist. Every moment should teach us that all is all and nothing else.

We are the reflections of those who are reflecting those who reflect.

The phrase should be, "On further reflection..." and lead into one's secure place in family, subculture, culture and universe.

I believe I am me but I know better.

We carry one image of self augmented by constantly-changing extensions of self.

But self does not exist. It is many things, instead, but only one thing to those who think individually - may be a soul that belongs to heaven or hell; a temporary manifestation of a god's thought; states of energy.

We cannot erase seven billion thought sets but we can occasionally show the crowd the scaffolding and propaganda that creates the illusion of self within one's acceptable surroundings that one often believes is the true way to live.

Then, we go on from there together - attached to this planet for many more decades.

If the flow of water stopped, what would you do? If your monetary system suddenly disappeared, how would you exchange labour or investment credits for goods and services? If food was no longer available at any price, what would you be willing to eat?

What if one item fromabove was left and could feed one of two, would you sacrifice yourself or the other person?

Would you like to see how many of your daily actions lead to others being sacrificed for you?

Or how your death is the result of others sacrificing you?

Let's find out, shall we?

Maybe a universally-accessible database of tracking device info comparing the vehicle's actions to local laws as well as summary records of the driver's emotional conditions and level of paying attention to the road - daily offenders will be automatically cited and publicly arrested at inconvenient times in their lives.

Set examples for others.

Remove a few pebbles from disturbing the serenity of the pond.

No exceptions.

No more special privileges.

A small demonstration first...

Rain falling on metal rooftops

It was a damp and stormy night. Dank. Danke. Dansk.

A cold front met a warm front in the high and low pressure swirls spreading spindles of spinsters' bundles of spun steel wool.

A paralyzed cricket pulled itself across the Berber carpet in the barber shop quartet practice chamber.

Silver maple leaves left impressions on the cracked concrete floor.

Incantations illuminated LED wintry light sets strung highly.

Hot apple crumb pie, coconut cake and chocolate cherry dessert sugar-coated conversations set to PS3 and Longhorn/Aggie classics.

Ninth grade academy, Hilton Head escapes and John Battle primary school year set theory compete with claustrophobic six-inch cave height exploration for exciting achievements.

Chorus: Medical terminology is determined to slip in a dead language combination or two.

Limits limit only when limitations beat imitations for meditation and Haitian medical station sensations.

Another Ten Steps

The challenge - to think and record thoughts at least once every cycle of sleep/wake - does not include a requirement for quality or quantity.

Dreams and visions mate and clash with reality frequently, constantly, with no regard for consequences.

How does one listen to seven billion sets of spoken thoughts and rise up out of them with a single shared future of continuous hope repeatedly realised?

Can we separate blunder and bureaucracy from greed and intentional waste?

Hiking through mud, one sees the clear blue sky beaconing (or beckoning - take your pick).

Not everyday can one find another who is blissfully happy with the simple fact that being alive is more than enough.

One's visions, no matter how grand or ordinary, are one's own to compare to one's self-awareness.

After one's dreams become reality, what does one do with one's self?

Does one stop running after the bear has given up the chase?

After the baton is passed and the relay race of our species is well taken care of, how does one quietly slip into oblivion, happy to sit and ponder one's anonymity?

Leaves fall. The planet spins. Youth has left this body long ago. Youthfulness remains. The curiosity reigns.

Individual peace. The absence of time. The obliteration of earthly wants.

Happy with an ordinary life, cut free of the surrounding tug of threads attached to the extraordinary social expectational web.

Born with a smile on one's face, indicative of pure internal happiness, one goes along with others and their dreams/goals to reassure them they'll find the peace one was given congenitally.

One hopes everyone copes or adjusts to the gaps between happiness, reality and dreams.

Words on a page. Alive.

Dichroic Dichotomies Bombastically Fantastic

Found for sale at roadside stand - fried bedbugs and ground flax seeds - mmmmm.....  Never miss a business opportunity when there's free protein for the baking.

So which state functions do you care about - subsidies for business entities or subsidies for subcities?

I want a couple of days to step back and ponder the impermeable impervious impenetrable perforations.  How, for example, does one step in and out of spacetime if spacetime does not exist?  How does one appear to those who only know spacetime as the working model for daily living/survival?

I'll leave you with these thoughts by Ashleigh Brilliant:

ASHLEIGH BRILLIANT, QUESTIONS AND IDEAS, AUG 2009- NOV 2010. Part I.
 

1. Do red and green mean stop and go everywhere in the world?

2. How close did the Germans come to invading England in World War I?

3. Is it possible that the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa once had an affair?

4. Trade-name for a new brassiere: the CANDELA BRA.

5. Idea: write my own Constitution, beginning “I the person.”

6. Lists for the listless.

7. Are shoulders the only thing we can shrug?

8. Needed: a car that runs on URINE.

9. The Day I Didn’t Die.

10. The two great World Wars had many similarities and some striking differences. Where can I find a good comparative summary of these?

11. Do people with foot fetishes tend to become podiatrists?

12. Am I right in saying that, unlike the body, the mind discharges no waste products?

13. Good title: NOT NOTHING.

14. Good conversation starter: Complete this sentence: “My mother used to . . . .”

15. Did horse-and-buggy drivers ever use rear-view mirrors?

16. Question: Why “knuckle dusters”? What does the “duster” part mean?

17. We can say “there is only now” because past and future are in a certain sense unreal -- but we can’t say “there is only here” because we know other places exist.

18. Reality For Beginners.

19. Are there people who can put on their trousers both legs at once?

20. Do all Americans say “A to Zee” and all Brits say “A to Zed”? (This could be the basis of a detective story which hinges upon whether the perpetrator is American or British.)

21. Dear Obnoxious Cell Phone User,
I realize you are minding your own business (and that you wish I would mind mine) – but must you do so at the top of your voice?

22. And I heard God say, “THIS LIFE IS ON ME.”

23. I cut my finger on the First-Aid box.

24. I’ve heard of games involving a “greased pig.” How about an ordinary game of catch in which the players’ hands are greased. The game could be called BUTTERFINGERS.

25. When did a reigning British monarch first visit a British colony (not counting Ireland)?

26. How many home accidents occur when people are putting on or taking off their pants?

27. Question: Where did Hitler get the Negro extras who were sometimes needed in German films during the Nazi era? What became of them?

28. How many American black soldiers were taken prisoner by the Germans during World War II, and how were they treated?

29. Idea: an illustrated Who’s Who of our local homeless population.

30. Which animals need least sleep, and are there any which never sleep at all?

31. I find 3 different meanings of Amadeus: “Love of God,” “Loves God,” and “God’s Love.”

32. Why was there no Roman anti-cruelty organization picketing the Colosseum? Has society as a whole actually become more “humane”? Is this “progress”?

33. Isn’t the song “Thank Heaven For Little Girls” dangerously close to sexual deviance?

34. Is a point well taken the same as a point well made?

Cyclone

Faith is attempting the leap over the chasm you don't know you can jump.

Do you have to ask first?

Thanks to Patsy at Carson's Grille, Charlie's staff in Rogersville, and the beautiful young lady who renewed my driver's license at the courthouse.

Watching the driving behaviour of a Hsv City Schools van (44287 MU), I wonder if those who serve the children of school age should obey the traffic laws?

Smugness is a fault, a vice, a pleasure, a pain of mine. I don' want to know when I've picked the winners - I want the winners to keep our species and our ecosystems expanding and thriving, putting family in front of intolerance.

Deer In The Windscreen

First of all, thanks to the Knox Co. sheriff's deputy with license tag GW3378.

What is one life? Our mothers give birth, we grow up (if we're lucky) and eventually the line between life and death crosses our paths.

Maybe a boom or a whisper or a last heartbeat and deep sigh.

Or we drive along, spouse and child securely strapped in.

A large animal, undomesticated, leaps to avoid the incredibly loud and fast object it has no comparison to make against experience, neither mother nor father being able to demonstrate the object's inertial power.

A leap too short.

A shattered windscreen, broken sideview mirror and rear passenger window.

Four lives intersecting.

A broken neck and rear leg with a compound fracture.

Strangers on their way to a football game stopping to offer assistance.

Photographing the vehicle from several angles. Two shots of the deer.

Dragging the deer onto the median. No systematic life left, now a carcass of cooling cells.

Calling emergency services.

Waiting for police assistance.

A stranger with a trailer pulls up and asks if anyone wants the deer.

The spouse says no deer that caused this ruckus will enter their house.

Helping the stranger load the deer onto the trailer. Blood from the deer's mouth leaves a crimson trail from median to trailer ramp to trailer bed.

Memories from childhood of roadside smashups involving people and vehicles only. Crumpled masses with no life left inside.

Thoughts of football game a faded future.

Lifeless photographs in camera.

Sunshine. High altitude feather clouds and contrails whispering that it's okay.

The circle of life. We all die.

No. I want to live. I'm not a deer. I can compute the equations that determine the trajectory needed to jump so high and so far no vehicle of any kind can kill me in an accidental instant.

Or I can stay away from roads.

But I won't.

Even though I want to live and know road travel increases my exposure to broken windscreens and crumpled bodies.

I'm a Wandering Wonderer. My destiny is not mine to choose. Roads are my conduits.

One single life, not solitary, a temporary confluence of states of energy flowing along.

Somewhere, a stranger has gutted a deer. Somwhere, a father, mother and child have assimilated the story of the smashed windscreen into the shared narrative of their lives.

Newspapers and websites tell the stories of the football game, itself a shocking outcome of two forces meeting as one.

The well-traveled road of endless possibilities meets itself at the intersection with the wish for a night of forgotten dreams.

Thanks to Sonye and Michelle at Buddy's BBQ, the KAT crew, the AC135(?) KC-135 crew and others I'll remember better tomorrow, the moon's phase another step closer to full, always cycling around.

Grandfather Clock

Some days, I am all about me, lost in the wilderness of my overgrown thoughts, thirsty, hungry, wondering once again if it's worth reorganising my knowledge to find humour in opposing ideas.

Time.

Motion.

Nothing standing perfectly still.

The threads of life pulling on me, tugging, pushing, hugging...

I've climbed the corporate ladder.

I've organised volunteer projects.

I've led and followed.

No longer "who am I?" but how can I enjoy the moment without using resources excessively?

Pure happiness tempered by imperfect reality.

Old-Fashioned Cost-Benefit Analysis

Another use for understanding our rewriting history, as you've seen - how many and for what reason did/do people die?

Ones, tens, thousands, millions - we've watched movements that "took" lives at these levels.

Wars, famines, diseases and natural disasters - any and all of the above.

We die. Do we die an individual death or in connection with something bigger than ourselves?

Do we say something like WWII was a tragedy or the occasional price we pay for drastic change, well worth the price?

What is one death worth? One act of random kindness?

Are we humbled and dismissive when people thank us but just as quick to give abundant praise, despite objections that it was no big deal?

Can we see more than one view at once objectively?

How many sons and daughters takes it take to change a lightbulb for an Irish mother? Don't worry yourself over it, my kind, loving and overworked children, say the mother, I can sit here in the dark all by my lonesome like I do of every evening when you're not here to help me in these long, cold winter nights with nothing but a turf fire to warm my heart.

Under The Oak Tree

Somehow, independence has lost itself in our drive to succeed.

That thought stops to view a village life from the middle of a stone bridge over the rippling waters in the oxbows and backwaters of my thoughts.

Like playing with plastic army people and tanks, pretending to refight the battles of our ancestors.

Or recreating home life with miniaturised furniture in a dollhouse.

Are we ever really independent? Is any substance absolutely pure?

No need not to pretend otherwise.

Our dreams are as exact a diamond point as we want them to be.

Diners on old rocking chairs, private school fundraisers, bowls full of liberty, professional approaches to amateur sports - we're as unpretentious as we want and are perceived to be.

Pure happiness knows no religion or politics. No hierarchies, but plenty of temptations to create them. As easy as being satisfied with whatever comes your way. Nameless. Faceless. Independent in the middle of social interdependence.

Don't chase after or run away from your dreams - let them come to you as if you've lived them your whole life.

Woodcut

I looked across the restaurant and was shocked to see an older image of myself.

I grew angry, afraid, both certain and uncertain of myself.

There, before me, was my future staring back at me out of the past.

I watched myself hurriedly finish my meal and take my wife with me quickly out of the place.

I am not a meadowlark but I watch one cleaning its feathers on a birdfeeder in the woods. It flies away.

I sit here, exchanging sunlight reflections with birds and other living things tuned to states of energy flowing from a glowing, hot ball of fire.

My species is clamouring for my attention in more ways and manners (and unmannerly ways) than I care to count.

Thela hun ginjeet, I say, or some such. They repeat themselves when under stress - they repeat.

Few people know what I've done and what I'm capable of. It's what it is. I repeat.

When an overzealous reporter makes news out of nothing, I've concluded I have nothing to say.

That's the problem with having been a reporter, having had your own fan club and having negotiated backroom deals ...

... once you've done most of what your species is capable of, including ruling your species, and you're not changing into an entity with more choices ...

... sigh ... taking long naps and meditating are about all you've got left to entertain yourself.

That's the secret of the guru life.

Staying hidden in plain view.

Kind of like the ETSU football program - undefeated and unscored upon since 2003.

My ego has gotten the better part of me lately and I publicly apologise to myself one more time for my arrogance. I'm not here to sell myself or anything to do with discrete personalities.

All is all.

I have nothing worthwhile to say about what I know is really what life is all about. It would fill a dot at the end of this sentence. What I don't know is the rest of what we call life.

Today, I'm tired of reacting to other people's agendas. The real story of the universe is not for sale or designed for our consumption. Time for me to disappear temporarily. Time for a nap.

St. Peter im Hochschwarzwald

Detached and depressed today.

No more Bill Hicks, Lewis Grizzard or David Foster Wallace. More dead white guys littering the literary sheets.

Left with the real world, the Book of the Future sold page by impossible page.

No longer entertained by compromising individuals.

Not comfortable comforting the feel-good middle masses.

Lost in the labels I make about not existing.

A yellow butterfly like a fall leaf defying gravity in a late October wind storm.

I have no power, no name, no fame, no place in history to call mine.

Faceless, blameless, hopelessly hopeful (or hopefully hopeless?), hopping along on legs burdened with 70 lbs of excess fat I can only call mine.

Chronicling is not living. Living is not journalism but journeying on travails.

This day, like many, too many, before, this day that shrinkwraps itself around me, getting tighter until I can hardly breathe, the cliched life choking off words, when I can find no yesterday, today or tomorrow with my mark scratched onto its hardcore surface...

I know what it's like to be dead already.

I am the water vapour with no thoughts that we think we call clouds.

I never existed in the first place. I had no need of black velvet paintings or similar nouveau riche luxury expenditures. My fits of consumption have always been modest.

And yet here is the luxury of "I" in plain view.

Comparisons get me nowhere. I have no one to impress but my self-delusional vain self.

Eat and be eaten. The essence of essen.

Maybe being hungry is all I've got to say for myself, and food, not visions, usually suffices.

And if you met Ron P. on the trail, then what?

Looking at CDs by Chuck Mangione, Weather Report, Pink Floyd, Dolly Parton, Kronos Quartet, IIIrd Tyme Out, Bill Hicks, The Seldom Scene, Tangerine Dream, Claire Lynch, Miles Davis, Stan Kenton, Tomita, Rampal, nine inch nails, Keith & Rusty McNeil; books by William Faulkner, Lu Hsun, Brendan Gill, Michael Belfiore, Wayne Biddle, Augusten Burroughs, Ken Tanner, Stephen and Robin Larsen.

Thinking again about the Korean movie "Shadows in the Palace."

Many the words unknown, from chemical engineering solutions to sewing machine parts.

Many the explanations for not advancing, progressing, interloping or eloping.

Every utterance a technical manual of Germanwordsstrungtogether.

Thinking ahead to washable, social fabric wrapping our bodies.

How does a humble life go with luxury goods?

How many people buy a vehicle and practice changing a tyre along the roadside before a blowout occurs?

What is a modern library?

What does 1ERECT2 mean when two people are sitting with the doors of their one lorry open?

How many pretend to have mysterious lives?

Why be inquisitive in polite company?  When is saying "need to know only" ignored by the unnaturally curious?

Who hires and trains soldiers/guards to torture captors?

Who stops perpetuating perspiration?

What does it feel like not to be superficial?

How to deprogram a fear of being obscure?

Where?

Why?

To what extent?

Isn't meteorology the study of the sky falling?  Is it the study of meteors?  Why not?

the rains fall soft

a couple of days ago i thought back to the evenings when i joined other future engineers and scientists to practice tossing scarves cigar boxes and balls as part of juggle tech at north avenue trade school

now i toss words around and wonder about time

choices

a bridge too far

the bridge over the river kwai

the bridges of madison county

bridget jones diary

the idea that identifies delivers empowers and amplifies

reducing states of energy to incomprehensibility

turning a moment inside out

juggling the wind

letting go of the future

dropping the hero herding mentality

poof

silence

and then there were seven

feel for the fluttering the irregular heartbeat

and then there were six

what is humourous about posthumous hummus

can u hum a tune from cabaret

is there a song in the way you pray

how did you ride a lightwave and get here so fast

fractions and fractals refracting reflections flecked fractured and flaked

were they five or eight next

itlxlr8

every one of us an analytical analog analogous to catalogues

use dual use duly duty dually noted

connecting to all the wavelengths around us and understanding every scent

can you see what is missing and know what is going on thirteen light years away

you can if you are willing to try your will willfully wistfully in your wishing well will

suppress and become not to become one

few know that any jargon will do as long as they keep coming back to the jargon that does

Chasing Rocks

A lot to think about today but not a lot to say.

Walked through the Lowe Mill outdoor festival this morning and listened to a few minutes of live staged music while looking at the works for sale by local artists.

Drove home, turned on the water sprinkler for the birds hanging out in the yard, this drought seasonal and selectively effective.

Watched a few minutes of NFL football on TV.

Surfed the Net for showtimes for the movie "Red."

A house full of unread books and not a thing to read.

How often do I get to admit to myself that I like to contemplate, compose sentences, and read my own writing, which often discusses the actions of other members of my species?

What if it's not the candidates but the offices themselves I don't want to vote for, thinking we have too many political positions? Should there be a checkbox that states, "I think this position should be eliminated"?

Is a crippled body the only way some people become rich (professional athletes, personal injury lawyers, cosmetic surgeons, office workers, etc.)?

If I have nothing new to say, why do I keep pretending that I'm original/unique?

Ergo: The more my cat gets to know me, the more it likes other people.

Maybe my momma was right - guess I think too much for my own good.

It's the Martian year of NASA space exploration. How are the other space agencies teaming up to complement and build on their work?

Time for a nap. I'm tired of thinking and thinking about thinking this afternoon.

Turn off the water sprinkler first, huh? Reserve water for us people, too!

Personal Edifying Entertainment Only

Where will E85 and increased fleet fuel mileage requirements meet in the future?

How do we improve the efficiency of the timely effect of crowdsource wisdom on individuals?

If I'm looking back at this antiquated time we're in from 1000 years later, how do I explain what this nearly reinvented language won't be able to?

If you could see how trees "talk"...

How do we get rid of the relativity of timescales?

Of what use am I now if I already know the branched out effects I have made in subtle ways on a future in which I don't exist?

We want to believe we are because we watch each other and ask, "Is that what I'm like or supposed to be?," our imitative behaviour getting the best of us.

How do I justify my existence? How do I explain my place on the path of an endless loop?

I can't, not with these words.

I watched my 10-year old girlfriend die without my support when we were both in fifth grade and I was unable to express my emotions or attempt to visit her in the hospital. I felt completely helpless and a part of me still does.

Thus, I decided not to have children.

I watched and read about the technological achievements that were demonstrated during the battles between the U.S. and the Vietcong. I wondered about the individuals involved in decisionmaking up and down the chain of command, both military and political, within all the parties participating. Thus, I decided that war is a manufactured contrivance by our species and we have many ways to achieve technological advances, including and excluding war.

Thus, I decided to focus my energy on redirecting our aggressive/assertive behaviours toward developments more productive in the longterm.

Genies never seem to fit into the bottles from which we eagerly pulled them. [That is, the military-industrial complex won't disappear so let's work together to create species-level goals worth dying for.]

It's easier for youth to die for a cause than to find a 50-year old with a cause to live for. [That is, the military-industrial complex won't disappear so let's work together to create species-level goals worth living for.]

We're stuck inside our hunter-gatherer bodies with few outlets to actually hunt and gather, penting up frustrations on many levels of behavioural complexity. No matter who we think we are, let's not forget who we really are.

Knowing the future creates a kind of paralysis about the present moment and I don't know why 'cause I know the future is the direct result of what takes place in the only time we really exist, time the illusion we perpetuate to give us the illusion we have a greater influence on life than in just the moment.

Babies and wars are timepieces. So is the squirrel drinking water from the birdbath, its life notched into the trees growing from forgotten nuts.

How do we want to be remembered if we know we're going to be forgotten?

Life on this planet is the only existence I truly know. Despite the infinite possibilities of combinations of states of energy, all probabilities incalculable, it's best for me, as infinitely unique as I am, to forget about me and make sure that impossible future I see us enjoying 1000 years from now is set in motion in this moment and every moment in between.

We can't solve every problem but we can make sure we're still around to try.

People smarter than me have pondered the ways we use one another (i.e., the profit motive), along with the accumulation and redistribution of our labours/investments.

How do I ignore our subcultures without ignoring subcultures in the multipronged approach to keeping individuals and subcultures happy while making sure our species maintains a comfort zone of living within its means in the local/global ecosystem?

Do I have to help the subcultures that haven't the local means to protect, clothe, feed and prepare themselves for better adapting skills in the future? Should our natural predatory practices be punished, no matter how civilised they appear to be?

Should the squirrel be punished for eating a tree's seeds or rewarded for forgetting about the seed that turned into a tree?

Tell me something I don't know.

Some things don't change. I've got to go. Nature calls.