Even in absurdity, sacrament.     Even in hardship, holiness.     Even in doubt, faith.     Even in chaos, realization.    Even in paradox, blessedness

 

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* Latest additions... welcome!

[?]= Seems to be down or on hiatus.
Please report broken links for my blog audit.

"Life expands or shrinks in proportion to one's courage."    ~Anain Nin

{ Saturday, 31 May, 2003 }

"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 16:44 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



{ Friday, 30 May, 2003 }

"Sudden Sychronicity"

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.

jaybird found this for you @ 00:55 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



{ Thursday, 29 May, 2003 }

They've cloned a mule, hee-haw

They've cloned a mule, hee-haw ad infinitum.

jaybird found this for you @ 23:59 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



"Quickie 2"

Been moving all day and now off to house manage for the theater.

jaybird found this for you @ 17:41 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



US finds evidence of

US finds evidence of WMD at last - buried in a field near Maryland

jaybird found this for you @ 09:48 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 09:33 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



{ Wednesday, 28 May, 2003 }

Bird on the Moon's host

Bird on the Moon's host blinks out due to fire

jaybird found this for you @ 23:30 in Blogosphere, Tech & Internet | | permalink



{ Tuesday, 27 May, 2003 }

"Quickie"

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.

jaybird found this for you @ 23:06 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



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.

jaybird found this for you @ 22:52 in Culture, People & Customs | | permalink



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..."

jaybird found this for you @ 22:21 in Art, Music, Theater & Film | | permalink



A dream I stumbled upon:

A dream I stumbled upon: How I met Underground Panther in the Sky

jaybird found this for you @ 22:09 in Consciousness, Psychology & Philosophy | | permalink



Suburban Sprawl: A Public Health

Suburban Sprawl: A Public Health Issue? Ya think?

jaybird found this for you @ 22:00 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



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.

jaybird found this for you @ 18:54 in High Weirdness | | permalink



Is setting up Guantanamo as

Is setting up Guantanamo as an extrajudiciary execution farm American justice?

jaybird found this for you @ 17:52 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



Will America watch Gay Reality

Will America watch Gay Reality TV? I dunno.

jaybird found this for you @ 17:48 in Gay, Lesbian, Queer & Free | | permalink



"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 07:54 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



Virgin sacrifice in Chile halted

Virgin sacrifice in Chile halted by student loan

jaybird found this for you @ 00:03 in Silly People, Satire & Strange Behaviors | | permalink



{ Monday, 26 May, 2003 }

It is with humility and

It is with humility and frankness that I submit the following (ahem):

Your Ultimate Purity Score Is...
CategoryYour Score Average
Self-Lovin'53.3%
Explored the pleasures of the flesh
63.7%
Shamelessness61.9%
It takes a couple of drinks
78.4%
Sex Drive 63.2%
A fool for love, but not always
76.7%
Straightness37.5%
Done the nasty, but not creatively
42.9%
Gayness 3.6%
Makes Dr. Frank-n-Furter look tame
81.9%
F*$%ing Sick93.8%
Refreshingly normal
89.2%
You are 55.5% pure
Average Score: 71.4%



I'm just over halfway "pure." So I'm not a choir boy or Ivory soap. But I do karaoke sometimes and don't smell too bad.

jaybird found this for you @ 23:32 in Carnality, Naughtiness & Fun | | permalink



"Pegasus Ranch"

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.

jaybird found this for you @ 20:48 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



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

jaybird found this for you @ 20:00 in Art, Music, Theater & Film | | permalink



America's 15 best swimming holes,

America's 15 best swimming holes, one of which is intriguingly not far from here.

jaybird found this for you @ 16:58 in Environment, Ecology & Nature | | permalink



What's your BodyBurden, the pollutants

What's your BodyBurden, the pollutants in your system? Spooky stuff. via Tom Tomorrow

jaybird found this for you @ 16:43 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



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. "

jaybird found this for you @ 16:14 in Radical Undertakings | | permalink



Seeking a theory that not

Seeking a theory that not only ties it all up but is fun at parties? Try Silly Super String!"

jaybird found this for you @ 00:17 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



{ Sunday, 25 May, 2003 }

This meme has been popping

This meme has been popping up a bit lately; the hundredth monkey and the nearly unfathomable number of monkeys at a typewriter. first link via abuddhas memes

jaybird found this for you @ 23:56 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



Winners and one sore loser

Winners and one sore loser at Cannes 2003

jaybird found this for you @ 21:01 in Art, Music, Theater & Film | | permalink



"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 00:35 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



{ Saturday, 24 May, 2003 }

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.

jaybird found this for you @ 17:31 in High Weirdness | | permalink



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. "

jaybird found this for you @ 17:20 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



All about Sumer

All about Sumer

jaybird found this for you @ 08:24 in History, Civilization & Anthropology | | permalink



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."

jaybird found this for you @ 01:15 in Spirituality, Religion & Mythos | | permalink



Sars 'from the stars' The

Sars 'from the stars'

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.

jaybird found this for you @ 01:07 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



{ Friday, 23 May, 2003 }

"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?

jaybird found this for you @ 17:40 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 00:55 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



{ Thursday, 22 May, 2003 }

Alchemy with light shocks physicists

Alchemy with light shocks physicists "The degree of control over light really is quite shocking"

jaybird found this for you @ 17:08 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



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."

jaybird found this for you @ 16:57 in Spirituality, Religion & Mythos | | permalink



Afghans' uranium levels spark alert

Afghans' uranium levels spark alert

jaybird found this for you @ 16:50 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



"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

Indian man on retirement pension for 65 years

jaybird found this for you @ 16:43 in | | permalink



Tarrytown judge's remark sparks outrage

Tarrytown judge's remark sparks outrage

jaybird found this for you @ 16:38 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



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."

jaybird found this for you @ 00:08 in Consciousness, Psychology & Philosophy | | permalink



{ Wednesday, 21 May, 2003 }

"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.

jaybird found this for you @ 23:27 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



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."

jaybird found this for you @ 16:14 in Art, Music, Theater & Film | | permalink



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

Girl Finds Two-Headed Turtle

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"Phew!"

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.


"Holy City"

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.


*


This city is the Holy City
The stones you kick with your feet
Have been cast at saints who walked the Earth
Before their time, and little birds sift the dirt in which
Great Pronouncements were writ, with their tiny beaks.
Many would tell you that the most important event of history
Happened right here, did you see it?
A yellow butterfly wrapped in glory flew by
Just a minute ago, is that what youíre talking about?
Books and blowing paper litter sidewalks that heave with sacred ambition
All this jetsam; hagiographies, illuminated texts, lost gospels that know the
Name of God, keys to the city.
That road there might lead to the end of time
A reckoning of mythic forces that will compel the galaxy
To spin us into even more brilliant light, fruit trees will erupt everywhere
Truth and Knowledge a dollar a pound at the produce stand, oh the seeds and pits.
Up on that hill miracles are performed
Iíve heard it; the sick and dying are healed
Their wounds placated with improbable nectars
And yet there is a crowd who do not blink as death is cheated
Who are blind sided by the power they claim, wouldnít know a miracle
If it saved their life.
Up that way, and to the left,
Just aways from the heart of town,
There is this temple, surrounded by supermarkets
Choked almost from view by the swift hollow rewards of profit
While a prophet is inside, wiping down the altar and sweeping the aisle
Whistling a familiar tune through ancient teeth surrounded by deep laugh lines.
This city is the Holy City,
Where your struggles and toils
To thrive will win you paradise, which lies
Just beyond municipal limits, but you can smell it
On the breeze, and hear itís sweet music amidst the din
And hustle of your obligations and prostrations to a heaven
From which no finger has pointed lately; only flocks of pigeons
That descend on rooftops with a quickness, cooing long into the night.
As you sleep, dreaming that salvation is just another breath away and you have
One ritual left to do, to do it right.

*


Today I'll be boxing and moving, off and on all day. In just two exciting weeks and two days, it will all be official, power will be on, and I'll begin anew. The yard sale won't happen until the last week; I haven't sorted out the odds and even more curious ends yet. It's still quite early, and there's much to do.


jaybird wrote this at 09.35 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





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.


jaybird wrote this at 23.59 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|


"Eclipsed"


It's celestial, alright. Composite of eclipsed Moon over Asheville, NC.



jaybird wrote this at 22.47 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Anita Roddick: Kindness and
Revolution
"...I do believe we are living in remarkable times. Every country around the world there's an insurgence against much of what we've been taught. What we're seeing now is an amazing rebirth of grassroots community, including community economic initiatives. There is a plethora of these social experiments. And I think this is what to me is the most exciting."


jaybird wrote this at 19.24 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





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.


jaybird wrote this at 19.06 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Study: Only 10 percent of big ocean fish remain


jaybird wrote this at 18.19 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Alarm raised on world's disappearing languages


jaybird wrote this at 17.56 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|



"Hail and Well Met"

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?


A single day can be so full of surprises. Ones that fall, or float, or flow. I woke up today empty handed, and I found a thing that had fallen far in the bent grass. Eyeing it, I can't say exactly what it is, or how it came to be... it might never say, but I hold it tight. It could be a key.


Last night, Joshua and I gabbed wontonly, among many other things, about manifestation and it's permutations and happenings. So, today, still shaded with such talk, I went to work manifesting a new place to live; with a yard and some sense of "outsideness" about it, private and quiet. Bingo, such thinking out loud to the cosmos paid off. Once I heard the address, on Old Home Road, ironically enough, I had a very strong feeling about it, my guts warmed with the peculiar sensation of future-familiarity. Mind you, I've called dozens of wannabee landlords, and this was just another string in the web. Pulling up to the drive, I knew I would live there, as if the future me was waving at me from my future doorway. I sign the lease tomorrow.


I've lived here, in this presently decomposing house, since 2000, and before that in the house next door for another three years. In fact I tallied today that I've lived under 15 different roofs. In that time, only a few months did I officially live by myself. This will be something quite new, quite fun, and yes, much pricier than the current uncozy arrangement. I have this totally private porch perfect for late night zen sessions and star gazing. The first incredible sign was a rooster near by... I got Haiti shivers. This is the right way, and the right time, to do it. L'chaim!




jaybird wrote this at 17.45 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|



"Surprise on the Moon"

At last, a dream to write home about. Which I did, earlier today, in this way:


"In the wee hours
That are the domain of muses
And the dewing of grass
I saw upon the southern edge of the moon
A brightness nested in a tiny point
As if a star had fallen into an incomprehensible crater
An incredulous shine that jarred reason.
Soon this phenomena spread from eye to eye
All manner of wires crossed
And the whole planet, our busy doings, confused,
Dwindled in inexplicable conundrum.
'What is it? How did it get there?
Are we safe? What will this do to what we claim in knowledge?'
Oh vexing sky,
what unnamable thing has bejewelled the moon?
The uncommon became the common language,
Fingers poked the ceiling of our understanding,
Making so many holes which leaked so many utterances of why, why, why...
Soon, light simply stole the moon
And we left the night without shadows.
Of course, this was a dream,
And in it's glare I overslept, overshot my obligations,
As cardinals hulled seed in those beaks
Where rough tongues cup sunrise in sound.
I scurried too,
And now all I have is an aftertaste
That has lost the connotations and importances
Of strange portents in the molten black of sleep.
If there was a meaning
It floated from my yawns and back to
That unknown orbit of indwelling lunacy,
The origin of such night flights
That illumine new days with otherworldly brightness
Even as the moon hides under the horizon
And it's glittering surprises."


What's more, I don't remember going to bed, didn't set the alarm, and wound up with those images in the ibasket of my waking consciousness. How 'bout that? Mystery, omens, portents, signs, or lunacy?


At any rate, the classifieds are out, listings circled, and it's time to scope out cardboard boxes and friends with pickups. And so, I move on...


jaybird wrote this at 20.46 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Soulmate Calculator. My results: "You have to meet 1,202,184 homosexual males who are between 21 and 35 years old."


jaybird wrote this at 19.39 EST|
entry link| your thoughts?|





Vonnegut: Strange Weather Lately


jaybird wrote this at 19.27 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Sister Mariam McGillis of Genesis Farm has developed the Cosmic Walk as a tool to symbolically reenact the creation of the Earth, from ineffable void to right now.


jaybird wrote this at 19.23 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Total Lunar Eclipse Coming May 15-16


jaybird wrote this at 00.04 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Badger Terrorist Cell in Worcestershire! Rampage injures five! Ashcroft! Ashcroft!


jaybird wrote this at 19.54 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|



"Emancipation"

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:


"emancipation is at hand! i gave notice to the housemates, and now the search is on. [moving by] june 15 is my target date, and sooner if a dreamy situation opens up. lemme know if you want any [of my soon to be dispensed things], i'm shedding a great deal of my material skin so i can focus entirely on immaterial skin; that porous stuff between us and the infinite."


jaybird wrote this at 16.22 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





Does America have the Buddha-nature? "People have good hearts whether or not they live like Dharma Bums. Compassion is the heart of Buddhism"




jaybird wrote this at 22.43 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





The Mysticism of Dillard's "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"


jaybird wrote this at 22.28 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|





In Parallel Universes would parking be easier? via MeFi


jaybird wrote this at 21.32 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|



"Mile a Minute"

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.


Leaving a thing certainly makes you appreciate it. Ask renunciates, or the Buddha himself if you can find him. I appreicate this town, and in time daresay I will let it go too, like it did with my old home, and the one before that. Once I've threaded the next pearl on that strand, I'm sure I'll have much good to say for this speck in the greening mountains, just as I've divined delight from my former state, albeit in a roundabout way. There are still twists and turns in certain roads that are new or unknown to me here. There is still much to give, and many surprises that have not yet lept out within the sleeping granite that rings us in serpentine winding. For now, it is good, very good, which is good because there is only now.


Within a month I've dipped into obvious ironies; the lushness and scarcity of Haiti, the blandness and opulence of Eastern Metro-America, and the laissez-faire obligations of Home, I've mediated wild extremes. There is no return to normal. Once this pendulum of perspective starts it's wide arc in a rush for stillness at the middle, it will spin and never repeat the exact same swing, no point revisited. As the wind whips by, and the emotions from that tumult rise, I can only be thankful to feel them; I have something, out of all this space, to feel! Upset at returning to an injured cat who had been entrusted to friends, tired from lack of sleep, goosebumpy in chilly shadows, ready to sell off everything and live simply... all blessings, oddly, that there is stimuli to evoke emotion.


For each human there are nearly a trillion stars you could have to name, and yet Annie Dillard found this great statistc opining that all humans presently alive could fit standing in a small lake outside of London. Feel that? Is that awe? Good. Now feel something else. Is that the injured cat peering at you with veternarian vexed eyes? Good. Now pet it, gently. Is that love? Whatever, hold it tight, for in the coldness of eternity there is no feeling like it, none shown just so as you've just done. You miracle worker, you.


The sun is setting on this day and on this shelter along a street I know too well. I pray that in the rising I'll come across something I don't know, or even won't know. Let me be puzzled. Let mystery be the floor and my curiosity that dances barefoot on it to the sound of the birthing of clouds. Let me awaken with trembling unfamiliarity to a morning light whose color cannot be named and painted. Is there any greater wish? Is this any way to feel about coming home after steering a glob of metal through ten hours of mile a minute velocity?


I cannot feel the turning of the Earth but I see the side effects; the evening is dizzy in thoughts. Change is in the air, and caterpillars are climbing stalks for the sake of doing just that. But less sublty, Heraclitus' river rolls on and on, through tidal mudflats and mountain glens of fern and jack-in-the-pulpit. It flows through me, and it flows through you, and you never step in the same river twice.


It's good to be back.


jaybird wrote this at 19.59 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|



"Discards, Keepers, Returns"

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.


There's a sort of clean-up effort going on inside my head right now. Sure, I'm a little "winded" from last night's celebrations, but as I pack up for the mountains and today's drive, there's a pile for discards and a pile for keepers. In the discards go the savage energy (I may have soaked up a
little) of commerce and fear that forces so many souls into surrender and dissolution. In the discards go frustration with certain familial traits and behaviors. In the keepers, however, goes the love for the family and those which, despite their grating or jarring tendencies, are thoroughly wonderful human beings with stories to tell, and love in their hearts. Anyone who can live here is of braver stuff than I, so I raise a glass to those who make their bed in Babylon but who dream of the goodness that is surely down the road. In the keepers; the love I've received and given, the joy of friendship, and the surprise of discovering beauty in the midst of ecological brokenness. Beauty is a seed that no chemical can kill; it will take root and grow whether you like it on not. There, that was easy.


So, minutes from now I'll begin my southward fling, with stops in Smyrna and Rehoboth to see my mother and grandmother respectively. From there, I've got 600 miles to home and I won't stop until I smooch the cats on the backporch, who play with the night and make catnip out of moonbeams.


jaybird wrote this at 09.21 EST| entry link| your thoughts?|

jaybird found this for you @ 00:07 in | | permalink




 
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Letter Excerpt:

 

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.