Even in absurdity, sacrament. Even in hardship, holiness. Even in doubt, faith. Even in chaos, realization. Even in paradox, blessedness
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"Life expands or shrinks in proportion to one's courage." ~Anain Nin
"First Entry From New House"
Long title for a short post. But it's true, I'm taking in the new sights from this window as I jot the initial words from a new phase in my life. The yard sale was a smash hit, but there's still leftovers, and tomorrow I'll be tying up the vociferous loose ends, braiding them, hopefully, into a decent length of rope.
It's amazing how small the world is and how connected we all are. I mean it. At one of Asheville's many fine booze vendors, we were relaxing after another performance of "Midwives." I was drinking a fine brew, a Sweet Georgia Brown, and not really in the state or county of mind for sudden synchronicity of a cosmic and baffling nature.
It's been over a month since I was in Haiti, and gradually the conversation has become less frequent about my adventures there, though it's sugarcane sticky spirit stays quite well around. A cigar box brought up an anecdote about my smuggle of a few Cuban cigars from that holy island, and the exuberant New Yorker sitting next to piped up that she was in Haiti, in Jacmel, last month as well. She went to Basin-Bleu, I went to Basin-Bleu. She was on a schooner, and I took pictures of a schooner in Jacmel Bay. I spoke briefly to some of her crew as we left Basin-Bleu as they were just getting there. She was among them, and remembers other Americans at the pools that day... what are the chances? Winding up at a bar, chatting up a friend of a friend who I happened to brush shoulders with in such an improbable climate a month before, further away in imagination than miles?
Such a coincidence, if that is even an acceptable word for it, is a powerful refutation of the "mereness" of our being; every moment we live we defy odds, and what is synchronistic is actually happening all the time, and we're only jogged into our senses every so often until we notice. Time and space are no dynasty; they hold no sway over the soul's movement within itself. We begin at the smallest increment of an atom, and unfold until the whole universe is in our hands, with mountains, waterfalls and everything else in between. Chance encounters are the natural constant.
We are all perfect strangers brushing shoulders in paradise, occasionally recognizing just how long and wide spreads our shadows and light. Now if the revelation of the implausibility of two total foreigners sharing, out of all the randomness there is, a single point of reference at an exact location and time of day in a place so remote from simple reckoning... if that isn't a real hoot, I don't know what is.
They've cloned a mule, hee-haw
They've cloned a mule, hee-haw ad infinitum.
Been moving all day and now off to house manage for the theater.
US finds evidence of
"Last Day in the Ol' Neighborhood"
The neighborhood is especially vibrant this particular morning of this particular day... the one which I've selected to be my final one residing within these old plaster crumbling walls and cracked, permanently clouded windows. I took the short walk to that epicenter of Woodfinian culture, "The Hot Spot" for my just waking up five cent coffee. It's one of those little stores where the police scanner is always on, there's always some drama being related by the local folk, and never a shortage of wit and banter from the bobbing grey head behind the counter. I'll miss this little walk, three minutes of my day in transit in my neck of the woods, where life goes on around me and I frequently forget to notice.
The colors on the fire hydrant... the way the Latinos have painted their mailbox... the constancy of the yard around the little brown trailer... these are things that I've noticed but never entirely appreciated. Today it seemed as if all were dancing beyond their skins for my eyes to notice their common, easy to miss qualities. And all the while, on my little groggy jaunt for nickel coffee, as I planned a day of packing boxes, there was music.
"Doc," as he is known, is this little hunched old man who wears a safety orange vest and cap, with a smile broader than the French Broad River, who walks up and down the road collecting cans and whatever wanton trash crosses his path. He especially likes the car wash down the street, and is always enmeshed in some inscrutable commerce. This morning, minutes ago, "Doc" had a harmonica, and played it in short bursts of three notes, always ending in a high, happy tone, much like the yellow warblers that darted through the wet leaves that caught sunshine and put a spell on it. Ta-dah-da! Ta-dah-da! If Doc's smile were any bigger he would swallow the sounds.
I make a practice when in the car to honk the horn a wave at Doc, because no one else seems to and just in case this man with the goat voice might just happen to be God. I remember one day last summer, I drove by and he was fumbling with a black broken umbrella by the side of the road. It looked like he had caught this giant, bent bat and it was feebly flexing it's tattered wings against him. That was heading one way, and returning south down the road this time he had a bright, multicolored perfectly round bumpershoot (as my grandmother calls them) and was twirling it in ecstasy, again with that world swallowing smile through ancient reddened skin and thick glasses. Had he transformed the broken blackness into this circus of spinning colors? Transubstantiation in action?
Incidentally, I'm told that the moniker of "Doc" might be derived from an orange sign that he used to wear around his neck. DOC. Department of Corrections, which will not be too far rom my new home, just a few miles down river. They say he has more money than everyone in Woodfin put together, and that you'll see his brother, a skinny little fella who runs the magic tricks shop up the road, occasionally running down the road with a wheelbarrow.
I will miss these fun collisions of stimuli of this old place, but the new one offers much promise. The other day, one of the neighbor's roosters was up in a tree by my future bedroom window, and he seemed to do this little dance (not the 'chicken dance,' thank you) as he pondered higher branches of the pine that dwarfs my new home on Old Home Road. Could that tree be Yggdrasil, the world tree? Wherever I live, I try to activate the mythology of the place, so I can attempt to understand just what it's trying to say. Do I always hear it? No. But the land is a language of sorts, and it's always talking; if we do anything at all in this life we should take a moment to listen as we awaken into it, even if all we hear is cat scratching at the door and the distant sweetness of a harmonica played by God.
Bird on the Moon's host
Productivity is an illusion. Therefore, I have no misgivings over not thoroughly dedicating myself to that ideal today, sort of the last calm before a story week overfilled with obligations. I'm a little too tired to rant or go into details tonight, other than I'm well, hopeful, and eager as all get out to be free of this house.
A rather dim housemate here wants to paint his room black to absorb sound waves. I'm so ready. At the new house, a rooster was sitting in the tree outside my bedroom window, calling down the sun. I'm so ready.
Comedy in Brunei"Comedy is at
Comedy in Brunei"Comedy is at its merriest and most festive when the rhythm of life can be affirmed within the civilised context of human society," Hj Ahmad was quoted as saying.
The Legacy of Genghis Khan:
The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256Ė1353. "Genghis Khan (ca. 1162Ė1227) and the Mongols are invariably associated with terrible tales of conquest, destruction, and bloodshed.... Yet, the legacy of Genghis Khan, his sons, and grandsons is also one of cultural development, artistic achievement, a courtly way of life..."
A dream I stumbled upon:
A dream I stumbled upon: How I met Underground Panther in the Sky
Suburban Sprawl: A Public Health
Suburban Sprawl: A Public Health Issue? Ya think?
Steer Clear! The score so
Steer Clear! The score so far: Bull 0, China Shop 0, Weirdness 1. Actual bull in actual shop that vends china and other antiques retires metaphor. Lethal implications.
Is setting up Guantanamo as
Is setting up Guantanamo as an extrajudiciary execution farm American justice?
Will America watch Gay Reality
Will America watch Gay Reality TV? I dunno.
"Transition a go-go."
I'm off to start the long awaited training for my new job; guidance counseling for troubled youth. A little nervous, yes, because I've been so damn comfortable in my current vocation. But I need the challenge, and a pay hike. What's really funny is that I could be starting there as soon as I've moved into the new place. Transition a go-go.
Virgin sacrifice in Chile halted
It is with humility and
It is with humility and frankness that I submit the following (ahem):
Dreams aren't supposed to make sense to anything other than the subconscious mind. If indeed the case, mine should fess up now and tell me what is going on. So, I was riding this steed, you see, and we ascended into the clouds and entered ďPegasus Ranch,Ē a sky-borne watering hole and hitching post for flying mares and broncos. There I met the Goddess of the Wide-Brim, a white haired deep lined matron of the high altitude side saddle, rustler extraordinaire of shooting stars and riderless magic carpets. She was big, she was bad, and her ancient eyes were the color of dawn. She winked and everything became wind, and I rode whistling across the very edge of blue. Yippie yay yo and away!
Now I double dog dare someone to interpret that.
Quote I found on the
Quote I found on the Blogging Ecosystem:
"I read somewhere that everybody on this planet is separated by only six other people. Six degrees of separation between us and everyone else on this planet. The President of the United States, a gondolier in Venice, just fill in the names. I find that extremely comforting, that we're so close, but I also find it like Chinese water torture that we're so close because you have to find the right six people to make the connection. It's not just big names -- it's anyone. A native in a rain forest, a Tiero del Fuegan, an Eskimo. I am bound -- you are bound -- to everyone on this planet by a trail of six people. It's a profound thought -- how Paul found us, how to find the man whose son he claims to be, or perhaps is, although I doubt it. How everyone is a new door, opening into other worlds."
Ouisa Kittredge, Six Degrees of Separation
America's 15 best swimming holes,
America's 15 best swimming holes, one of which is intriguingly not far from here.
What's your BodyBurden, the pollutants
What's your BodyBurden, the pollutants in your system? Spooky stuff. via Tom Tomorrow
Take a wank holiday. I've
Take a wank holiday. I've not decided whether to observe this... :)
jaybird found this for you @ 16:18 in | | permalink
Boy sets sail to cure
Boy sets sail to cure asthma "AN ITALIAN couple driven to desperation by their six-year-old sonís acute form of asthma set sail with him yesterday on a home-made boat in the hope that living permanently at sea will help to cure him. "
Seeking a theory that not
Seeking a theory that not only ties it all up but is fun at parties? Try Silly Super String!"
This meme has been popping
Winners and one sore loser
Winners and one sore loser at Cannes 2003
"After the Zap"
The other day at work, the funniest thing happened. I was standing right next to one of those horrid bug zappers; you know the ones that lure the unfortunate insects in with an appealing lavender light to their sparky demise. Little was in transit through my head at the time other than a preoccupation with a mood that seemed unworkable and a spirit that was not lifting through conventional means. My eyes caught a bloated fly, drunken on the spoils of a warm spring day, as it flew right into the contraption, and a TSSST! seemed to confirm an undistinguished fate. While this repulsive device bothered me in itís rude scheme of elimination, my repulsion to it was diminished by my listless meandering in self-centered blues. Just another dead fly, just look at them all, legs in the air and eyes frozen. Now where was I?
Then, as sure as it flew in, this klunky overweight fly flew right out of the death trap and into the sky, gone in an instant of astonishment. Wait a cotton pickiní minute, did that fly just get zapped and survive? Yes, indeed it did, albeit probably under the weather from all that voltage... itís out of the trap after the zap.
If thatís not a miracle, I donít know what is. If it can withstand the blunt mechanistic contact with killer intentions, I can overcome the amorphous sludge of reasonless downtrodden days. After the zap, freedom. After the zap, the sky. The blahs are not lethal. If anything, the blahs might exist to create a pivot point from the comfortable to the new. We Americans sometimes get these blahs in the midst of having everything, and the only way to turn it around is to rearrange what we value or cast off what has become useless. TSSST! Change it up, let it go, and get gone.
I canít yet say that Iím out of the trap yet, but Iím definitely regaining my strength. Iím peering through the electrified wires into the clouds, and getting there is as easy as deciding when to fly, metaphor or not. Should I be this candid? Evolutionarily speaking, does a species stand a good chance to survive if it rolls over and exposes itís weakness? Or does it adapt itís weaknesses to itís environment? Poisons secreted behind bold colors, weaknesses behind camouflage. I suppose that answered my question.
Only two humans in my immediate sphere know my current emotional wrangling. For the rest of the world, Iím nodding my head and going through the motions, not the emotions. I know that with all the relative good fortune of late, itís a little illogical to find myself wallowing in the thick airs of placeless doldrums, but who said emotions attend to logic? Iím lucky to feel them at all, I could have been a helium molecule or a dust bunny rather than a yawning caucasian gay thirty-ish American male, kicking the dirt and watching bugs fly into a zapper. It was Julian or Norwich who chanted ďAll shall be well, all manner of beings shall be wellĒ and Bob Marley who stylied ďEvery little thingís gonna be alright.Ē I believe them implicitly, with all the beating in my heart. I canít let the experience of the funk Iím going through be the funk Iím going through; Iíd rather be funky. And I will be.
Ruminate this: a lowly fly survives a zapper. A lonely boy survives a downer. A lovely planet survives a bad turn. Solution, dissolution, resolution. Tell me just how big the Universe is, and tell me again what your problem is... can you exalt the lifeforce of a little bug that keeps going for no better reason than just because? TSSST! Do you see the clouds yet?
Defy the odds and bring them to you.
Well, something sick happened in
Well, something sick happened in my referrer logs so I just had to post it to Disturbing Search Requests. Please folks, this is an innocent little site.
Study Sheds Light on Dark
Study Sheds Light on Dark Matter "Astronomers have made the most direct measurements yet of dark matter, some of the most prevalent stuff in the universe -- about which almost nothing is known. "
All about Sumer
All about Sumer
Joseph Campbell - Mythic Reflections
Joseph Campbell - Mythic Reflections "I'm calling a symbol a sign that points past itself to a ground of meaning and being that is one with the consciousness of the beholder. What you're learning in myth is about yourself as part of the being of the world."
Sars 'from the stars' The
The virus believed to cause Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (Sars) may have come to Earth from outer space, according to scientists writing in a leading British medical journal.
"Juggernaut of Ephemera"
Thus begins a whirl of non-stop activity, a juggernaut of ephemera, a dive into days overstuffed with the fixings of activity and the trimmings of obligation. Lying at the end of this marathon is a thin ribbon through which I shall gracefully fly into my new home. Until then, late next Friday night, my waking hours will be filled with a myriad of necessities. Yet my 'humour' is rebounding from it's recent downward turn, and I greet with preparedness any strange flotsam in the coming onslaught. In layman's terms, I'm working a lot, sleeping little, and feeling better. And the birds are especially colorful today, winging mercurial through queer clouds and scandalous flowers. I wonder what that one has in it's beak?
"In Another Province"
I've come to the realization that my tides are receeding a bit; the waves are slow and far out, and while calm, the shore is waiting for the return of the sea. I don't know entirely where I am right now; placewise there is little doubt I'm in the near empty former room of the old house, but mindwise, I'm in another province entirely... distant, quiet, confounded a bit by the language. I am curious about you; do these words mean anything, do they communicate a feeling, and do you feel it? As society has grown more and more bent to the individual, you'd think we could talk more about emotions than we do. Would you call this melancholy? As for me, I can't say that this is the case, but I don't know what else it could be. I'm withdrawn but I don't need support; I'm where I am, whereever that is, and will find my way to somewhere else. I'm sure of it, in fact there's no way around it.
I used to fight these swings of mood, now they interest me in their complexity and how ultimately our emotions control us, unless of course you've shrugged them off altogether. I haven't... I want a range of emotion, and the illogic behind them. They don't make sense and come on unprovoked, but what doesn't? Life isn't ever restrained and doesn't ask permission. It seems more reasonable to accept and experience this ebbing of neuro-chemical tides then beg for the sea to come back in right now, when in due course Shakespeare's "inconstant moon" will guide them back in to wash over you, to play again in the waves and foam.
In olden days the prevailing word for mood was 'humours.' How right they indeed were.
Alchemy with light shocks physicists
Alchemy with light shocks physicists "The degree of control over light really is quite shocking"
Buddhists 'really are happier' "Tests
Buddhists 'really are happier' "Tests carried out in the United States reveal that areas of their brain associated with good mood and positive feelings are more active."
Afghans' uranium levels spark alert
"US seed companies are keen
"US seed companies are keen to sell their products to foreign markets, but European consumers are wary of GM foods, fearing long-term harm to human health and the environment.
jaybird found this for you @ 16:46 in | | permalink
Indian man on retirement pension
jaybird found this for you @ 16:43 in | | permalink
Tarrytown judge's remark sparks outrage
The Death of Psychology? "Could
The Death of Psychology? "Could it be that psychology is failing? I think so. In fact, I think it has failed big-time. Furthermore, it has failed not just in the sense that more people are ill or unhappy, it has failed technologically, philosophically and is already in an advanced stage of decomposition."
"Back Where I've Never Been Before"
Change may indeed be the only thing there really is... everything, when examined deep enough, is in flux. Even zero degrees kelvin, absolute zero, where molecules cease their jiggle, they move still as the Universe moves through itself. We can't stop moving, can't stop changing. As the landmarks of our life reshuffle on the horizon, to metamorphose will be inevitable. Adaptation is merely another rung on Jacob's ladder.
That said, I'm weary tonight. Not weak, not saddened or scared, just weary. The amount of current and upcoming transition is beginning to feel overwhelming, and the obligations and rings of fire I must jump through, circus-like, are piling up and melting together into one large surreal glop of congealed chaos, gooey to the touch. Yet, I've made the choice to enter the goo, to return to the familiar feeling of the tenuous, new, and unfamiliar. Into the irony skillet.
I've just watched a play about childbirth, it's bloody gasping for change, to transmute the thin skin of the body with a soul pure and new, timeless and free of ideas. Birth is a ritual of obvious transition, blatent and holy change, a flower bending to the earth to cast off a seed. And so on, such is the intended design. But life is full of this seeding and birthing, pain and release, splitting the chryasalis and taking to the unknown airs of destiny. This play spoke to me of the difficulties and complication of transformation; the outcome that we wish to bring into fruition is not guaranteed, all this is guaranteed is sweat, tears, and clenched fists raised to a God who may or may not empathize with our delerium. Baby and bathwater both remain an 'if.'
So tonight I'm in labor, birthing a belly full of the unknown, outcomes that exist not even on paper but mapped out from afar, on synapses and daydreams. Within a week, metaphors aside for a minute, I'll be living under a new roof and in a new job to pay for it, with new birds outside my window, sleeping on a new bed and awaking to new days. My whole world is anticipating a scheduled upheaval. I'm feeling remarkably socially awkward and in a few days have to emcee in front of hundreds of people ( maybe it will rain ). People ask how or what I'm doing, and I just want to hold up a sign that explains it all and get back under the turle shell, or cocoon. I smile and nod, but inside I'm churning, a churning mass of undifferentiated tissue, forming structures that I need to survive, like wings. Does a catterpillar dream of wings? What will my life be like? Will I get by? Did Mohammed move a mole hill?
Confidence lies in experience, and the latter is as inevtiable as, I dunno, the change the underlies and forges creation. I will get by, my life will be what it is, and Mohammed is stepping up to relocating a mound or two. So, doubtless, I will experience this manic dive into newness until routines are made from it, and like Tarzan's jungle, I'll find plenty to swing on. I have faith in that, even blind faith, that every little thing will be alirght, but until the day comes that warms the cocoon just right, and that thin skin will be split by a grand and ambitious soul, adapting to limitlessness. I'll enjoy my verdant rest in this inbetween place, and if I don't talk much or jumble my words, it's only because I'm awed by returning to where I've never been. Bear with me.
The Matrix Reloaded: The Corporate
The Matrix Reloaded: The Corporate Mofo Guide "Going into The Matrix: Reloaded, I wasn't worried if the fight scenes or special effects would measure up to the first film- it was the metaphysics that bothered me."
Danger Will Robinson, danger! Tree
Danger Will Robinson, danger! Tree That Give Meat Instead Of Fruit!
jaybird found this for you @ 16:01 in | | permalink
Girl Finds Two-Headed Turtle
jaybird found this for you @ 15:52 in | | permalink
Moveable Type is a beast, one that needs much coddling and taming. The site won't be the same for a while, as rebuilding everything is no easy task. I've played hookey from the realities of moving, and a gentle night, to stare at this screen and make the bird on the moon fly. She's falpping her still wet wings, wondering what happened, and is looking toward the stars in utter anticipation.
jaybird found this for you @ 00:11 in | | permalink
Entries from the Past Week
Well as you prob'ly guessed, ol' Greymatter gave up the ghost, and I just finished converting to MT. Things will be shaky around here for a while, and don't even try to comment on these, I'm too tired to chase down GM's defunct comment tags.
Monday 19th: Greymatter most definately farted in a cosmic way. If I can't get it up [ahem] I'll switch to MT. Could be a long haul. Sat. 11:45am... It looks like I've exceeded disk space or Greymatter has crashed. I dunno, I'll resolve this quickly and meanwhile will resume packing.
Sat. 11:45am... It looks like I've exceeded disk space or Greymatter has crashed. I dunno, I'll resolve this quickly and meanwhile will resume packing.
I rolled right out of bed, entirely too early, and penned this poem. I was just fresh from dreaming about three chickens, unwatched, who were tossing things up in the air and laughing. Also of my old forests where I played as a child, which were turning to deserts, and an old man who was dressing up to leave his house for a walk, intent on never returning. Over all this, hijacked planes streaked the sky, reporters trailed after them. Very strange indeed.
First loads of books and whatnot are in the new place... I'm gyrating wildly in excitement, thrilled beyond measure to leave behind the drama... The new neighbors are so great ( they build altars to the Goddess! ) and the whole area just radiates contentment. Exhausted right now, hovever, and need a long, uninterrputed sleep.
It's celestial, alright. Composite of eclipsed Moon over Asheville, NC.
Anita Roddick: Kindness and
No they didnít, girlfriend! Homeland Security Department Used to Track Texas Democrats. Meanwhile, hereís the resume of another Texan, albeit of a totally different stripe all together.
Observe the hail, that came down just a few minutes ago. The little world around me became a percussive cacophony of heaven sent nature. Amazingly, as I walked cautiously into this very real sense of atmosphere, this dense fall of ice, I didn't catch a single sting from gravity, no icy rebuke. I gathered and ate the stones, letting their cold shock my tongue and their electric taste move down my throat, as the roadsides cluttered with frantic flotsam. How curious that these frozen particles of sea and stream can be suspended at all in the thick of cloud. Why release them now? How old are they? If one brained me, would I really chill out?
At last, a dream to write home about. Which I did, earlier today, in this way:
Vonnegut: Strange Weather Lately
Badger Terrorist Cell in Worcestershire! Rampage injures five! Ashcroft! Ashcroft!
An email I just dashed off, as I dash off and put my energies towards literally moving on, out of this house and this increasingly distressed neighborhood:
Does America have the Buddha-nature? "People have good hearts whether or not they live like Dharma Bums. Compassion is the heart of Buddhism"
In Parallel Universes would parking be easier? via MeFi
Like Heraclitus and his river, you really can't return to the same home you've left. Stasis and surety are sandcastles, built with human hopefulness on the brink of raging tides. All that lies behind the door when I leave will transform and transfigure as soon as the wheels turn and the flesh that holds my name is beyond sight. I did not expect to arrive to a house frozen and listless, an absolute zero where nothing mas moved. Thank goodness for change. Thank goodness for the rush of it's leading edge. It guides me to ideas, ideas to action, action to manifestation, and round and round again.
I'm imagining there's quite a clean-up effort at the church this morning. Cake just went everywhere... no delicacy there, when it was time for the bride and groom to partake of their cake they partook alright. As I hope they partake of their union; wild, free, and full of joy. Congrats, Nate and Amber.
jaybird found this for you @ 00:07 in | | permalink
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are Copyright 2005 by theodore "jay" joslin and joyous jostling studios. Thank you, Wanderer, for All.
i am jay joslin: a spirit-fed mountain hopping lover of everything, an ordained lefty-veggie-homo, and bon-vivant go-go dancing with all the messenger mockingbirds of morning.
Progressive Voice of the Mountains
Free Radio Asheville
Eclectic Music for Mountain Folks
(see rights notice at bottom)
Keep it even,
"Not all who wander
You contain everything
Everything contains you
If you desire the Infinite,
look no further than the window.
Ten Considerations for Being Well n this Goofy Universe
0. If you find yourself
wonderstruck, donít forget to return the favor. 1. Always be of service to
the whole and the Holy. Youíll find that the Holy will reciprocate by being
of service to your becoming Whole. 2. You will be called upon
to use your mind and your vision in ways I cannot possibly glimpse. Never
turn down an offer to shine that light so uniquely yours to help others in
their darkness, and youíll find that when itís your turn to be in the night
that thereíll be someone along the way who happens to have a little glow to
share . 3. The rewards of being
true to yourself are infinite, even when outwardly your efforts are met
with nothing. 4. Youíll also see that
knowledge and wisdom will come from within yourself through your own
struggle and curiosity... your loved ones may guide you to insight, but
yours is the power to choose it. 5. Youíll find that some of
your choices couldíve been better, or at times were downright stupid. Thatís
okay... I have a closet full of reckless decisions, but without making them
I wouldnít have the slightest idea of what a good one might feel like if I
tried it on. 6. Your growth will be a
mysterious, comic, ecstatic and sometimes scary ride, and I pray that you
strive to savor each minute of it, even the most difficult or embarrassing
minutes. Donít count on second chances. 7. In those times when
everything collapses around you, and whatís left wonít go right, donít
forget your chances of being alive in this solar system, in this galaxy, are
a little on the slim side. So slim in fact that it could be called a miracle
to breathe this air, drink this water, and have whet ever predicament youíre
having no matter how you shake, rattle and roll it. So go with the cosmic
flow and always choose something over nothing, while remembering that
thereís a little of each one hidden in both. 8. Respond as best as you
can with love to adversity rather than reacting with fear... Love, in any
situation and being the primordial source and essence of ALL THIS STUFF,
leaves / enters us with the most possible ways out / in. 9. Whatever youíre doing,
celebrate the process of doing as much, if not more, than what youíve got
when youíre done. Magic lives in the action. 9 Ĺ . All matter is energy.
All energy is infinite. We are but raindrops falling to the ocean, a short
time in this shape until weíre reunited with the expanse from which we came.
Your delicate yet sturdy, resilient body is a temporary shelter of energy
that has swam the universe eternally and will continue eternally. You are a
sudden crystallization of the infinite. One must ask themself, therefore,
why be bored? 9 3/4 . Choosing to live in
the moment is courageous but becomes effortless once you begin...feeling
obligated to survive in the past or future is dangerous and is difficult to
continue. Itís one of the few risks Iíd recommend not taking, right up there
with trusting icons and shrugging off coincidences. 10. The Universe itself it
not confusing, we humans just like it that way. Do frogs seem bewildered ,
butterflies befuddled and amoebas addled? Nope, just us, my child. So,
whenever things just donít make sense, just take a deep breath and laugh as
best you can, because thatís what you get for choosing this goofy,
unpredictable place called Earth to embody yourself upon.
0. If you find yourself wonderstruck, donít forget to return the favor.
1. Always be of service to the whole and the Holy. Youíll find that the Holy will reciprocate by being of service to your becoming Whole.
2. You will be called upon to use your mind and your vision in ways I cannot possibly glimpse. Never turn down an offer to shine that light so uniquely yours to help others in their darkness, and youíll find that when itís your turn to be in the night that thereíll be someone along the way who happens to have a little glow to share .
3. The rewards of being true to yourself are infinite, even when outwardly your efforts are met with nothing.
4. Youíll also see that knowledge and wisdom will come from within yourself through your own struggle and curiosity... your loved ones may guide you to insight, but yours is the power to choose it.
5. Youíll find that some of your choices couldíve been better, or at times were downright stupid. Thatís okay... I have a closet full of reckless decisions, but without making them I wouldnít have the slightest idea of what a good one might feel like if I tried it on.
6. Your growth will be a mysterious, comic, ecstatic and sometimes scary ride, and I pray that you strive to savor each minute of it, even the most difficult or embarrassing minutes. Donít count on second chances.
7. In those times when everything collapses around you, and whatís left wonít go right, donít forget your chances of being alive in this solar system, in this galaxy, are a little on the slim side. So slim in fact that it could be called a miracle to breathe this air, drink this water, and have whet ever predicament youíre having no matter how you shake, rattle and roll it. So go with the cosmic flow and always choose something over nothing, while remembering that thereís a little of each one hidden in both.
8. Respond as best as you can with love to adversity rather than reacting with fear... Love, in any situation and being the primordial source and essence of ALL THIS STUFF, leaves / enters us with the most possible ways out / in.
9. Whatever youíre doing, celebrate the process of doing as much, if not more, than what youíve got when youíre done. Magic lives in the action.
9 Ĺ . All matter is energy. All energy is infinite. We are but raindrops falling to the ocean, a short time in this shape until weíre reunited with the expanse from which we came. Your delicate yet sturdy, resilient body is a temporary shelter of energy that has swam the universe eternally and will continue eternally. You are a sudden crystallization of the infinite. One must ask themself, therefore, why be bored?
9 3/4 . Choosing to live in the moment is courageous but becomes effortless once you begin...feeling obligated to survive in the past or future is dangerous and is difficult to continue. Itís one of the few risks Iíd recommend not taking, right up there with trusting icons and shrugging off coincidences.
10. The Universe itself it not confusing, we humans just like it that way. Do frogs seem bewildered , butterflies befuddled and amoebas addled? Nope, just us, my child. So, whenever things just donít make sense, just take a deep breath and laugh as best you can, because thatís what you get for choosing this goofy, unpredictable place called Earth to embody yourself upon.