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

{ Wednesday, 31 December, 2003 }

"My Father"

Dear regular and irregular readers,

Please keep my father in your thoughts. He's just been brought to the hospital with suspected pneumonia, loss of motor control and dementia. I just returned from visiting him and other family in Delaware and he looked terrible, and had just suffered from torn ligaments and nerve damage in his leg.

Due to privacy laws, the hospital isn't telling me a damn thing, since they can't confirm that it is indeed me they're speaking to! So, feeling a bit powerless tonight, but since there's little else I can do, I'm going to take the phone with me, and as I go out to do the New Year's thing, keep my prayers focused and my eyes to the hopeful moon.

Thank you all, and deep peace in the New Year (keeping in mind that our's isn't the only calendar system and there's many other year out there).

Fingers crossed.

jaybird found this for you @ 20:41 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



"December's Bizarre Searches"

Plus, 2003's winner for the weirdest search request!

This month, things just weren't that odd, but these are the best I can do:

  • campaign slogan for moon
  • massachusetts do-nothing toy
  • meaning of when bird hits house window... It means it has problems -Ed.
  • pictures of people living on the moon... Not yet. -Ed.
  • men saxing women
  • cartoons shooting birds with there fingers
  • somnambulistic wingnut... There's something I can believe in! -Ed.
  • little bird said mr bush and his gang did not turn up in court but sent their attourneys instead and they were arrested on the spot. see what happens next. the reason the supoenas went out are to do with sept 11 and the towers. funny how in the news... That's not specific enough. -Ed.
  • boy meets boy whos gay and straight... That's a bit of an issue, isn't it?
  • why is film different from theater... One is on a screen, the other is on a stage. You just guess which one it is! I know you can do it! -Ed.
  • snow globe bird shit
  • things to do when there is nothing else to do... Enable Google to run your life? -Ed.
  • in the walls there are wires and in the moon there are hammers... 'K. -Ed.
  • scumfish or melanocomous or abu or gwag or monotone... Googlewhacked again! -Ed.
  • peeing flowers nutrient
  • federal court / moon stones
  • chances of being related to genghis khan... Slim. -Ed.

    And the winner of 2003's most bizzare search keyphrase IS.....

  • hallucinogenic affects of cheese (November)

    jaybird found this for you @ 19:07 in Blogosphere, Tech & Internet | | permalink



    "More Ten Best of 2003"

    (in absolutely randomized hither-thither order)

    Ten Most Influential People of 2003:

  • My best friend Joshua and his wife Robin (they'll be on this list every year)
  • The ten year old kid I've worked with since June, now his big brother.
  • My Director for "Greetings," Ellen Montieth
  • Gustav, for his wonderful assortment of bandanas
  • Lauren and Dana, who helped me convert to a meat free diet
  • Mrs. Dorothy Johnson, a teacher's aide, for her exuberant and cutting humor
  • Jackie, her smile led me to Haiti
  • Roni, an amazing child living in Port au Prince, and Djaloki, our guide there.
  • Debbie, for her encouragement and support dramatically, an endless fount of Margeritas and love
    STARTLING PUBLIC ADMISSION!

  • Ok, I'm going public with it... that 'special baby' I've mentioned here off and on is none other than my own daughter, born to a same sex couple who asked me to 'donate.' She was born in mid-July, and I can't go into names or locations for confidentiality, but I will be an active part of her life, and her smile and big brown eyes made the strongest impression on me in 2003.

    jaybird found this for you @ 09:41 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    Bizzare grow your own surreal

    Bizzare grow your own surreal garden flash thingy

    jaybird found this for you @ 09:25 in Blogosphere, Tech & Internet | | permalink



    Christiania, the spunky Danish autonomous

    Christiania, the spunky Danish autonomous zone near Copenhagen, may soon be shut down after 32 years of self governance. "I built my own house here. I have two young children who are third generation Christianites. I am not going to give all that up without a struggle."

    jaybird found this for you @ 08:58 in Culture, People & Customs | | permalink



    { Tuesday, 30 December, 2003 }

    Vote for MoveOn.org's Bush in

    Vote for MoveOn.org's Bush in 30 Seconds contest, where the winning video "will be televised during the week of the President's State of the Union Address this January."

    jaybird found this for you @ 19:24 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



    Dave Barry: Between Iraq and

    Dave Barry: Between Iraq and a Hard Place

    It was the Year of the Troubling Question.
    The most troubling one was: What the heck happened to all those weapons of mass destruction that were supposed to be in Iraq? Apparently there was an intelligence mix-up. As CIA Director George Tenet noted recently, "Our thinking now is that the weapons of mass destruction might actually be in that other one, whaddyacallit, Iran. Or Michigan. We're pretty sure the letter 'i' is involved."

    jaybird found this for you @ 18:10 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



    Dean Labels Bush 'Reckless' From

    Dean Labels Bush 'Reckless'

    From Iraq to homeland security to public health, President Bush's "reckless" habit of placing "ideology over facts" has resulted in "the most dangerous administration in my lifetime," Democrat Howard Dean charged over the past two days.

    jaybird found this for you @ 17:08 in Howard Dean for President 2004 | | permalink



    World's Largest Snake Caught

    World's Largest Snake Caught

    Indonesian villagers claim to have captured a python that is 49.21 feet long and weighs nearly 1,000 pounds, a local official said Monday.

    jaybird found this for you @ 17:06 in Forteana, Phenomena & the Bizarre | | permalink



    The fish that threatened national

    The fish that threatened national security

    He exclaimed that in no way, under no circumstances, was a small fish allowed to pass through security, regardless of what the ticket agents said. Mr. Supervisor was causing a grand scene, marshaling the full authority of the TSA to refuse me ... but doesn't it strike you as funny that, with all the commotion my little security threat was causing, by now engaging the full attention of the TSA at LaGuardia, that someone who posed a real threat to passenger safety might be conveniently slipping by? By this time, I was in tears. The supervisor furiously told me to dispose of the fish. Dispose of my fish?!

    While we're at it, better ban them pesky almanacs, too:

    The FBI is warning police nationwide to be alert for people carrying almanacs, cautioning that the popular reference books covering everything from abbreviations to weather trends could be used for terrorist planning.

    And so, as alamanc readers (availible at elementary school libraries OMG!!!) and pretty fish (Osama is hiding in a pet store OMG!!) prepare to destroy the country, El Bush buries the signing of Patriot Act II Electric Bugaloo with the 'news' of Hussein's 'sudden' capture.

    By signing the bill on the day of Hussein's capture, Bush effectively consigned a dramatic expansion of the USA Patriot Act to a mere footnote. Consequently, while most Americans watched as Hussein was probed for head lice, few were aware that the FBI had just obtained the power to probe their financial records, even if the feds don't suspect their involvement in crime or terrorism.

    jaybird found this for you @ 10:00 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



    "Turned and Tossed"

    I slept terribly last night. If the ocean were sleep, I'd be bobbing on it's surface like a stubborn styrofoam cup. But, the neat thing is, as I bobbed thought kept coming to me from my dreams, and I'd stumble to the computer half asleep and jot them down, and re-attempt to sleep again.

  • If Gaia were a writer,
    our own orb a scribe writing her novels on cosmic rays,
    her pen a stream of ions,
    her language would not mince words as large as worlds.
    Through the indefinite nature of matter,
    her poems would be absolute and strong,
    through her molten passion and storm surge will,
    as real as icebergs and deserts,
    the gist of her message only this... beauty.

  • This tempest tossed body, indeed, all consciousness,
    teeters on the edgeless rim of totality,
    doing a furtive jig around the gaping maw
    which renders from it's void utter annihilation,
    and thus utter creation.
    We are made of tiny flames,
    the world and what we hold dear within it is on fire,
    even at the touch of a frosty leaf,
    or the cool sanctuary of winter rain.
    Somehow, we and our playground called Earth stay together,
    we are congealed for an instant from infinity
    and as we endure hardship and are broken down
    by circumstances sacred and profane,
    we entice tiny flames to remain,
    while others flee,
    while yet more are attracted
    by the bravery of a smile.

  • Person: So, how will it all end?

    Centaur: How will what all end, ol' chap?

    Person: This play?

    Centaur: This isn't a play.

    Person: Then, what is it?

    Centaur: Why, merely impressions of ink on paper.

    Person: So, we don't exist?

    Centaur: Pshaw! Of course we exist. In this moment we are as real as anything else.

    Person: I'm afraid that I'm a bit confused.

    Centaur: When you start unraveling existence, all you'll get is a confusing tangle of speculative answers and largely unanswerable Big Questions. So, you're par for the course. We exist in that, right now, someone is reading this, and inside their mind they are creating from the scrap of details left by the author, a loosely constructed character. At this point in the dialogue, say, you have one voice and I have another. It all depends on how the reader imagines a Centaur, and how the reader imagines the Person. So right now, we are created in someone's mind, and when you examine closely what reality is made of, we are just as real, right now, as anything else. So enjoy it, my friend.

    Person: Yet we are finite... After the person turns the page, we will fade back into the soup we came from.

    Centaur: Well where exactly is the fear in that? This is exactly my point: At no point do we return to the Source, we are the Source, briefly animated in varying degrees. We are unique examples of perceptual vessels of the Infinite, we exist to perceive, to witness, to create the Universe and ultimately, as we grow our consciousness, to become the Universe and to kiss God.

    Person: But that doesn't answer my question. And besides, I think you're drunk.

    Centaur: I am a Centaur, after all, it's what we do (proudly). Have some and get outside the box for a while.

    Person: That's a rather contemporary phrase.

    Centaur: Author's discretion.

    Person: So, by that do you mean that there's no free will?

    Centaur: I wish you'd have a little wine and relax. Yes, I have absolute free will, but in this special circumstance, I'm limited by the imagination of the reader and the author. Once I'm free of the constraints of this context, off the page and into the brain, so to speak, I'm utterly free.

    Person: This wine is horrid. Okay, one last question.

    Centaur: At your leisure...

    Person: Are we, or is anything, immortal?

    Centaur: I will keep this answer simple, for it is probably the best question you've asked all day. Yes, we are immortal through love. (Pause)

    Person: Through love?

    Centaur: Through love.

    Person: (it's sinking in) It's not all that bad, actually. May I have a little more?

    Centaur: Certainly, on one condition; that you not worry yourself on how it's all going to end, and just savor the experience and be right here with it, right now.

    Person: I think I can pull that off. Thank you, Centaur.

    Centaur: Good. I knew you could, ol' chap. You're quite welcome.

    (end)

    jaybird found this for you @ 09:38 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    Holy Sweet Mother of Pearl,

    Holy Sweet Mother of Pearl, I'm home! (598 miles, 9 1/2 hours)

    jaybird found this for you @ 00:29 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    { Monday, 29 December, 2003 }

    "Liberation by Entropy"

    Every stone in the sidewalk is slightly worn
    With the action of ancient waves which long ceased tumbling
    And the hundreds of years of shuffling feet
    Scurrying past the details, eager for the next distraction
    Ready to be freed of worry by the dancing glittery puppets we love so well.
    The city is tired. and it wants to go to bed
    But we don't let it...
    All that came from the womb of the Earth longs to be re-mothered
    Even the glass and steel fortresses of monied hands
    Crumble bit by bit to return
    And the sidewalk stones do the same, one molecule at a time
    Liberation by entropy.
    Just before sunrise, here in the city,
    You can feel the interstates dream
    And the elevators doze.
    Perhaps, arising fresh from sleep right now,
    My own peculiar reveries are merely the wistfulness of the atoms
    In this short instant arranged in patterns that sustain organic life,
    Plotting their own sloughing off
    Eventually to rejoin the mud flats and tide pools
    As later generations file past,
    Holding tickets to willful forgetfullness and pleasant distraction
    By the glittery dancing puppets we love so well.


    I'm leaving momentarily for the journey home, hopefully there by midnight. I can't wait to see my cats and snuggle in my own bed...

    jaybird found this for you @ 08:40 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    { Sunday, 28 December, 2003 }

    "Ready to Leave"

    I am weary and bleary from all this travel and the monotony of the homogeneity of this tired and pitted landscape. Tomorrow afternoon I turn my car to the south, and like a moonbat from this concrete Hades, I'll ride and won't stop until I'm at home in my own bed. It's been nice to see old friends and family, but I'm ready, by golly, to be in the folds of my beloved mountains, and all the reasons why I left flatland nearly eight years ago. I've got to sleep. Sweet dreams.

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



    "Well, that was fun."

    Oh boy. That club last night was kinda silly. I'm so tired this morning... I had big driving plans today but I'm going to have to curb that. Has nothing to do with any kind of hangover.

    jaybird found this for you @ 09:41 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    { Saturday, 27 December, 2003 }

    The cave temples of Mustang...

    The cave temples of Mustang... [courtesy of MeFi]

    jaybird found this for you @ 20:49 in Spirituality, Religion & Mythos | | permalink



    I'll be going here tonight

    I'll be going here tonight with my cousin and possibly a few others. When I lived in Delaware, there was hardly any gay culture to speak of, so tonight will be a new experience. Camera is going along for the ride...

    jaybird found this for you @ 20:43 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    "Breeze Blown Scraps of Mirror"

    Everyone here is sick. My father's flu (just a little cold, he says) is converting to pneumonia, which my grandmother has as well. We just returned from the neighborhood pub for lunch... the bartender wisecracks and his patrons snap back like any red neon waystation for the weary in a dime novel. My father has also torn ligaments in his leg, and his cane was signed by the patrons in lieu of a cast. "Safety first, Ted!"

    This evening, dinner with my mother, in the little roadside diner that's our traditions. Mind games and cottage cheese, hold the gravy. Being 'home' is bittersweet; I do love my partents, and in this overdeveloped and underappreciated corner of America I do feel a flood of nostalgia... but my mind is on a sort of autopilot. Without the comfortable cradle of the mountains to be my compass, I'm temporarily reorienting to old ladmarks, which go untested, and as memory glazes they become harder to trust. All but the river... the Dealware river remains an arterty within me, pumping mud and cargo out to the sea of experience.

    Firing up the old IMac, I found something I wrote in Folly Beach, way back in the first week of November (I think, I should check the archives). Anyway, this old scrap of thought seems to apply to the way I'm feeling today. Not an emotion, but a process of the gut, a worldless witnessing of unfolding intuition...

    "Waterwings Two," from November 2003

    The surf is rough; the sky is slate and there's a chill in the air. The allure of the beach, usually reserved for sun and bliss, transforms. Now what draws me to the thin swath is the wildness, the churning, the restlessness of mother ocean… this, a windswept revelation of how much of the world's seas live, choppy, cool, and merciless. Here is letting go, here is surrender, here is the end of vulnerability. What is not rooted in the sand must return to the crucible of wave action, pulverized, dissolved to sand, which will later be sculpted by child's hands into grand fortresses for a time.

    I have tossed much into the tumult and currents. Here, take this faded dream, these tears, the inert stones in my soul and break them in roaring. Return their particles in purity, let them nourish, let them become the firm under future feet. I cup the Atlantic in my hands and what I've given is returned in this moment with wind ringing in my ears and the endless breakers all the way to the end of my sight. Beauty fills voids left by giving away the pearls and grit of our soul. I stretch my arms wide and invite the ocean to come, take my footprints, and heave up something wonderful.

    The breeze blown scraps of mirror, these soft shards of reflective grace, blow on and on as we walk along the paths we think we know so well. The eye cannot perceive them all. But find one, chase down these jewels, and see yourself being pulled along by the tumbling, fumbling into peace.

    jaybird found this for you @ 13:46 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    The 'body burden' Davis Baltz

    The 'body burden'

    Davis Baltz shops for organic food and otherwise tries to live as healthy as he can. So he was shocked to learn that the pollutants collecting inside his body sounded much like a Superfund cleanup site: pesticides, flame retardants and other nasty, man-made chemicals turned up in a recent test.

    jaybird found this for you @ 03:54 in Environment, Ecology & Nature | | permalink



    The Bill Hicks Bootleg archive

    The Bill Hicks Bootleg archive [via MeFi]

    I consider Rev. Bill a prophet with comedian as an added bonus. I'm posing this here somewhat selfishly so I can get back to it once home in Asheville... missing those mountains already.

    jaybird found this for you @ 03:38 in Silly People, Satire & Strange Behaviors | | permalink



    "Arrival"

    In just over eight and a half hours I made a journey of nearly 580 miles. One hundred years ago, it would've been myth. Now, it's commonplace. Rather amazing, rathen mundane. We live constantly on the boiling lip of a crucible, teetering ever closer toward the mystery of the ecological limits of our progress... in the grand sense, in the ecology of our minds. The world has already shown us that it's not excited about supporting our current applications of innovation.

    When we will achieve the ultimate creative novelty and rediscover the wisdom bursting from our own world, the Earth within and around us?

    jaybird found this for you @ 03:35 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    { Friday, 26 December, 2003 }

    "The Trip North"

    I've changed my mind too many times... I'm on my way to Delaware tonight, should be there by about 3am. I've got books on tape and plenty of wonderful musical diversions to keep me company. I've got the ol' IMac with me so I'll be back online from the stuffy nostalgia that is my father's house. Returning to the mountains late Monday night.

    Here I go.... !

    jaybird found this for you @ 15:39 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    This MeFi thread has several

    This MeFi thread has several links to the tragic quake in Iran, possibly killing as many as 20,000. The historic city of Bam has been razed, as well as antiquities throughout the region. I'm trying to find resources regarding the rescue/relief effort.

    Deep peace to all those affected by this disaster.

    jaybird found this for you @ 11:35 in News, Opinion & Politique | | permalink



    "Bird on the Broadband"

    Today, I will finally give these old tired phone lines a rest... somewhere between 12 and 2pm, some digital angel will come over and install the cables needed for proper and uplifting broadband service.

    "On the second day of Christmas
    an ISP gave to me
    A cable modem and
    some other thing-y"

    jaybird found this for you @ 09:53 in Blogosphere, Tech & Internet | | permalink



    { Thursday, 25 December, 2003 }

    Reenact the Yuletide suspense with

    Reenact the Yuletide suspense with utter wonder's "blogvent" calendar.

    For some reason I'm partial to #19. Brilliantly funny stuff.

    jaybird found this for you @ 23:06 in Blogosphere, Tech & Internet | | permalink



    "Check-In"

    I've spent five hours now editing the script for the new play "Check-In," that goes up at the end of March. You can 'check-in' on the progress at the play's weblog here (mostly for the other writers and actors but I'll let you have a little peek). It all takes place at an anonymous airport as a blizzard approaches...

    Also been working on formatting the new book and installing MT on a friend's website. A very productive day so far!

    jaybird found this for you @ 18:21 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    'Kurisumasu' in Japan, courtesy

    'Kurisumasu' in Japan, courtesy of MeFi.

    jaybird found this for you @ 13:10 in Culture, People & Customs | | permalink



    "Star of Wonder"

    The moon is a thin curve of celestial lip against an electric turquoise sky, it's waiting to say something, but shyly lingers by the horizon, a million mile wallflower slowly intoxicated by the boiling light of Venus to come out and dance. The moon, grateful for the flattery, is nonetheless slipping out the back door to a party on the other side of the world's sky. There's a hill in the distance, with an old American gothic farmhouse whose peeling whitewash and abandoned windows wait and watch as the North Carolina mountains are dressed in a transparent shroud of anticipation for the Yuletide. No tree nor wreath will cross the threshold of that house tomorrow, and I stand there transfixed with my shopping bags in hand as a kid in the van next to my car yells out beneath a woolen hat; "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" He slams the van's door and it speeds off to a jingly destiny of cheer.

    I get in my car and drive past that house, looking lonlier tonight then it ever has. It looms like a gaping mouth, and soon I will shrug off my trespassing worries and surrender to the hidden memories which are drawing my curiosity. But meanwhile, there are things to do, tomorrow is Christmas, after all, and though I'm not going anywhere, I putter and do things because that's what most of America is doing right now. That busy-bee activity is infectious, whether you're anticipating flying reindeer, the virgin birth of a baby, or a day of relaxation and feasting... it's all gotta be done before midnight, or else.

    I unpack cheese, cat food and sweet potatoes and look again at the setting moon and swooning Venus... brighter than most ideas, taking up a whole quadrant of sky with it's shimmer, within which molten seas of lead and rains of acid pelt a world that we'll never witness. I wonder, star of wonder, if that was the very glow that attracted the apocryphal wise men two thousand and some years ago. Right now, it hangs over the low yellow efficiency apartments to the south that many migrant families call "casero." Surely, some new and wonderful things will be born under that star tonight.

    Imagine; lovers will embrace for the first time tonight, and will carry that moment, forever. In the midst of frenzied shopping, a human will make a loving and tender gesture to another, a stranger, meaningfully, and both will forget for a moment what's left on the to do list. A memory, long since dormant, will be triggered, and someone alone will be warmed by this and perhaps candle-glow. Someone who has led an unremarkable life will die a hero. A fledgling owl will fly through through the night, and will be heard gliding through the trees by someone gather kindling in the forest. A child will be born, against all odds, and for a moment the struggle and haste of life in some dingy place will be forgotten when it's noticed the child's eyes are a pure as pearls, a path to infinity. These things will happen under Venus' watch, a sphere of ardor named after the Goddess of Beauty.

    As the sky darkens and this hemisphere of world turns toward expectant sleep, may we recall in our dreams that each day is a Holy Day, that each of us carries within an original spark from that original flame that has brought us all this life, no matter what it does or what we do to it, we are as connected to that rising star as we are to our hands, feet, heart and mind. The ancient light that peers through our bubble of gas, into our retina, into our soul, is older than nations, older than religions, older than even the first traces of bone and sinew as the earth awoke for the first time. That star of wonder, if we allow it, unifies us... it weaves it's flow of protons through disparate peoples, displaced doctrines and damned conundrums. The first eyes gazed upward to it, and later life migrated by it's throne on the starmap. It's a thunk on the head of certainty, if we allow it; every star is, as it beckons us to ponder the infinite from our backyard, or through the windshield of your cozy auto with the heat on and whatever jazz that juices your orchard. It asks us, wandering wise women, men, all beings, to follow it's blaze of joy to behold a miracle. That miracle may be in a manger thousands of years ago, or in the belly laugh of Buddha, the prance of the White Buffalo, or it may be the cat in your lap, purring in contentment since you went to the store and retrieved her cat food.

    Low clouds have taken the little corner of sky that's turned my gaze beyond things astronomical toward things inward as a light snow starts to fall. As midnight passes, and a crystalline silence embraces a night whose holiness is shared with all time and all creation, with every second and every aeon, it's not Christmas specifically I'm celebrating... it's being here, it's life, it's that anything exists at all, and that for some odd reason, I and thou are conscious in this dance. That's the festival of lights that's lit every candle in every spiritual teaching everywhere at every time, and has been the fire under the pots of holy madmen and devout pilgrims of questioning.

    I've seen life happen, human and otherwise, babies that slip from the womb into the beginning of their history, with ocean blue eyes and the faint curves of a first smile as her name is exulted in the maternity ward... a newly reborn luna moth, drying her moist, unfurled wings on a trippy tennis court at 3AM. I've seen life pass... the old jogger with the little doggie's leash still in his hand, to the sad expressions of powerless kids taking their rage out of captured swamp frogs. Those appear as beginnings and endings, but named or nameless these are merely twists in the thread of continuum, and above longevity or brevity starlight, that star, and billions of other dancers, has shone. That shine is contained within, and dims not when the within is purged to the without. Find it in the sky, or inside, and see where it's leading you... for surely, once you recognize the brilliance, you will hold up your gifts in awe, and know that a new time has come.

    I think tomorrow, I will visit that old farmhouse. I'll peek in it's windows, wondering where the tree would've gone with savaged wrapping paper lying in heaps beneath, and out what door generations of excited kids ran into the December air with their new toys, while their families sipped hot cider and sang hymns to something wonderful born under a star, and seeing that glimmer in each other's eye, and in the antics of their children. Though that house is encircled by a tightening noose of stores, highways, and the gnashing of bulldozers, it has a story of it's own to tell. A valid story, like our own history, and though if the house were to talk I wouldn't understand half of it, it is made of great joy and great sorrow, all under the watchful orbit of the Universe. It is good to meet the ghosts and shadows we pass daily, and for a moment discover an intrinsic interconnection to something so vastly different from yourself, that being, the gift of being, held up before light, with hope and promise.

    Happy Holy Days.

    jaybird found this for you @ 00:56 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    { Wednesday, 24 December, 2003 }

    Your sky is a virtual

    Your sky is a virtual planetarium program from Fourmilab. "You can produce maps in the forms described below for any time and date, viewpoint, and observing location. "

    jaybird found this for you @ 23:07 in Science, Quantum & Space | | permalink



    Welcome to the strange world

    Welcome to the strange world of Shirley Q. Liquor, child.

    jaybird found this for you @ 18:36 in Silly People, Satire & Strange Behaviors | | permalink



    Oi! I've decided to make

    Oi! I've decided to make the trip to Delaware on Friday night/Saturday morning, with a slight detour to visit a friend in Ohio. Will be back on Tuesday, I suppose. I dread making these trips, but at the same time, I love 'em. I'll be bringing the IMac from last century with me so somewhat regular updates will caarry on.

    jaybird found this for you @ 13:59 in Journaling the Infinite | | permalink



    Meet a future jewel of