04.22.07
Posted in Mine at 10:53 am by Moody
ONCE UPON A TIME, right here and not far away at all, there was a little blue-green-brown world orbiting a common - but no less glorious for that - yellow star. Under the bright golden-white light of their star, even on cloudy days, many living things lived and died on this planet. The really dominant species was bacteria, and the second was insects, but the third, the self-congratulatory Homo-sapiens-sapiens, were total wisenheimers in the world-o-dominance and so called themselves the supremely most dominant dominaters of all what can be dominated. In other words: “W00t! wE pwn j00!!!1 1337!@”, they cried like frat boys.
Anyway, today is the day they called Earth Day, a day made in honor of themselves and their effort to make a good show of cleaning up after themselves even as large numbers of them still ran roughshod all over the face of the planet doing unspeakably vile things to it in the name of their god, “Free Market”. Now, some people really did do their darnedest and damnedest and whatsits to make the world a better place, and I’m not here to cast aspersions on them; the well-meaning are hard to find, and those who act on their well-meaningness are scarcer than hens’ teeth in the old chickens’ home (not that many chickens were ever allowed to grow old), so kudos to them (requiescant in pace and all that rot). But the truth is that in the end there were a lot of good intentions paving the road to that universal Lagos, and folks just didn’t get that there needed to be a massive revolution and not just a switch from regular bulbs to longer-lasting ones with mercury in them.
Because the revolution never came, and because they insisted still on driving massively wasteful vehicles on inefficient highways while gobbling up the planet’s resources as tens of millions of others starved or died from war or diseases, etc., and because they continued to allow an insane passivity to control them and their children, - well, things went from OK to not-so-great to should-we-worry? to what-shall-we-do-now? to oh-god-make-it-stop!!! to a death rattle. And then the bugs took over, although certain small mammals would disagree and nobody is quite sure if there are cetaceans left or what they’d say anyway. Probably just sing at you about fish.
Not to worry, though. It took quite a long while for humans to do themselves and scads more species in. Many of them lived and died thinking that - get this - the earth would be OK and nothing bad would happen. They thought they had insurance from the sky. You’ll just have to imagine me rolling my compound eyes. Even the kids of kids of kids of their kids managed to survive all right, I guess, all things considered. But once the religio-political infrastructures fell and the weather turned downright nasty on a regular basis and the waters rose and droughts came and viruses figured out new and unique ways of killing their hosts and famine swept the lands like clouds of locusts…. Well, it wasn’t pretty. It blows my wee little mind that humans ‘prophesied’ about it and then made it happen. They always were a species pro self-fulfillment.
And yeah, sure, all right, some humans survived. They don’t freaking look like much now, though. I’m sitting on the back of the neck of one right now. I’m not being swatted, so I imagine that this one’s not got much fight left, not much time to contemplate what happened. Then again, that doesn’t much matter to me, a gadfly on the neck of a dying human who probably doesn’t know death’s coming. Poor sod. Looks like it might have been pregnant, too… or, well, it probably just starved to death. They often look like that when they do.
Anyway, happy Earth Day! I’ll be seeing you.
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04.21.07
Posted in Musings, Personal at 3:15 pm by Moody
We cannot escape our human understanding of the world. We find meaning in life, in the universe, within the parameters of our human senses. Meaning itself is, as we know it and experience it, a human invention. This is not to say that there is only human meaning; cetaceans and avians may well have, at last among their smartest members, a sense of meaning unique to them. But for us it would seem that there is only our own sense of meaning. Were we able to talk with a dolphin, say, and discuss at length with that dolphin her sense of meaning, our understanding of that dolphin’s sense would still be a human one. We can never know what it would mean to be a dolphin understanding meaning.
Yet I am moved by what Steve Talbott says:
No one will deny that we experience meaning everywhere in nature. To sit in a quiet glade with the sun streaming through the trees; to endure the shattering power of a fierce thunderstorm; to enjoy the early greening of spring or the warm, rich colors of autumn; to stand beside a quiet pond or the rapids of a stream; to climb toward the summit of a high peak; to watch the unfolding drama of a sunset; to lie down and gaze up at the stars - every setting we encounter comes to its own meaningful expression within us. Everything speaks an inner language.
As I read those words the first time, I had what I humbly would describe as a moment of satori, or as a moment of pure, Zen-like Dasein. I was struck by the perception that my human sense of meaning does in fact interface with meaning in-itself, free of any particulars. The universe, life, means something. As a human being, however, the universe (which includes “life” in it) means something human to me and can’t really mean anything else or other, or can’t mean something some other way, because as soon as I start thinking about it I do so in my own human terms, within my human framework. I am aware of this. But there is nonetheless a wordless intimation that at the point of touching meaning in-itself there is a certain universal quality (not to say universality) that, even so frustratingly fleetingly, seems to be perceptible in what I will call a meta-human way (n.b., there is no metaphysical woo-woo implied in this). I am reminded of what Roberto Calasso noted in his Literature and the Gods: “In the Greek language the word theos, ‘god,’ has no vocative case…. Theos has a predicative function: it designates something that happens.” The Greeks were very perceptive. You can’t point to “god” in the moment, you can’t address “god”, but you can say that the moment itself was “god”. So, then, when we are truly in the moment — what happens? That is, what is it we are perceiving when it seems to us that meaning in-itself is unfolding? Might it be said that there is no vocative case for meaning in-itself and, if so, that meaning in-itself is an essence that precedes the existence of any unfettered example of it we might name? Is finding meaning inherent in us?
Meaning bears the ideas of sense, significance, and, depending on circumstance, intention. It is, as we understand it, a quality to some thing, idea, or experience that makes sense, yields significance, or reveals intention to us in a comprehensible way. I suspect that the problem we run into with meaning in-itself is found in the fact that intention may be suggested by meaning. Words are meant to make sense, to yield significance, to reveal intention; words are meant to be understood. As our intelligence enabled us to flourish in the world, meaningful words propagated across the seemingly limitless spectra of human experiences. Vocabularies blossomed as human beings attempted to better meaningfully communicate with each other about themselves and the world they found so meaningful. But no matter how much or what our words are meant to mean, in themselves they are in fact meaningless. A banana is not a plátano a plátano is not a weegbree. Although the words refer to the same thing, they are obviously not the thing in-itself; you cannot peel and eat the word in any language. In fact, there really is no word for the thing in-itself. I do think it’s fair to assert that from the raw, wordless experience comes the description in words. But can it with equal force be asserted that from the raw, wordless meaning in-itself comes the meaning implied by words? Of that I am not so certain, and it raises other questions.
Did non-onomatopoeic words descend, as it were, from onomatopoeic ones? I ask this rhetorically because it points, I think, to a basic problem for us here. An onomatopoeic word, it seems to me, must be quite close to the experience that created it because it is intended to convey, as a copy, if you will, the experience of hearing the event in question. If our words developed from our reactions to and experiences in and of the environment, then they more or less were intended, like onomatopoeic words, to reflect them. Hence, the meanings we found in the world were encoded over time in words, as a byproduct of our experiences, as we learned to better express ourselves. So today we can be told in great detail what it’s like to climb Mt. Everest, and we likely can relate, to some degree experientially, to what we are told because words bear general meanings that most people can relate to, yet the actual experience of climbing Everest will never be known to any but those who’ve climbed it. Put another way, the collective meaning of the words cannot possibly capture the meaning of the actual experience no matter how eloquent and accurate those words are in their description.
When we speak of some experience and its meaning, the meaning in-itself is like a package of silence wrapped in descriptors. We can’t address the meaning in-itself; we can only point to it. However empathetic a person may be, he will not be able to grasp the meaning of my moment. After long description and explanation, clarification and honing in, in the end he will take away a map of some detail that shows where the meaning lies, but the meaning in-itself will not be contained in the map any more than a building is contained in its address.
What I have written here is evidence of what I mean.
The universe seems to me to be ripe with meanings that are inherent in its existence. Yet there is no way to capture these meanings in themselves, and they are not even necessarily the same for any two people. As a product of the universe, I sense that the meaning of the universe is equally inherent in me and you and rocks and trees and plastic eggs and paper and so on. In the moment of wordless being, the meaning of the universe is clear and perfect and accessible. So maybe it’s not that the meaning is different for each of us. Perhaps the meaning in-itself is the same… because, like everything itself, it’s us. Maybe it can’t be captured in language because it is all words at once, or the possibility of all words all at once. Maybe it’s everything and so beyond any particular word or dictionary that it can only be registered as silence.
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04.14.07
Posted in Ecology, Personal, Society and Culture at 9:58 am by Moody
What a marvel it is, the internal combustion engine; what a wonder is the oil that, in its refined and crude states, powers such an engine. For nearly a hundred years our world — to large extent and to great effect — the world, I said, has been powered, has been driven even, by the ICE that runs, day and night, up and down the arteries of our great cities and along its railroads and rivers, fueled by the remains of a transmogrified biomass millions of years old. Small irony, that acronym, considering the fact that the exhaust of the ICE has, we now know, contributed to the melting of the polar ice, to the ongoing process of the melting away of glaciers, ice shelves and permafrost. Greater irony that the fuel we burn — as we cruise along the highway, rushing headlong into the future like a juggernaut — fuel formed of the remains of the dead, may at long last contribute to the end of us… or, rather, to the end of our distant progeny, scions of the self-blasted family tree who may not know another branching or extension or flowering.
While certain untrustworthy politicos may talk about our “addiction to oil” as if oil is under the purview and jurisprudent oversight of the ATF and, as such, is some part of the “War on Drugs”, many of us still seem to be unaware that there is really any problem to be concerned about. I say this because the evidence speeds past me and clusters all around me every time I commute the 20 plus miles to work and the 20 plus miles back I have to five days a week. Hell, I can hear the freeway from here, and that sound — like white noise, like a work of industrial ambience — never stops.
But I am especially aware of it now, because now I am learning to hypermile (which is just a convenient and nifty space age way of saying that I am going a step above and beyond in my efforts to cut down on my car’s gas consumption).
Here are the bare basics to hypermiling:
- Coast (in neutral) whenever possible, except in hybrids
- Don’t exceed the speed limit
- Be a conscientious, prudent and polite driver
- Avoid quick starts (no gunning the engine)
- Anticipate stops and slow downs in traffic to avoid them or minimize their effects
- Try to time your arrival at traffic lights to avoid complete stops
- Shut your engine off whenever you’ll be stopped longer than ten seconds
- Keep your engine’s RPMs as low as you (reasonably) can
- If available, use your cruise control
- Run your tank down under a quarter full before refueling
- Cut down on the use of the air conditioner
- Get that junk out of your trunk and the rack off your back
- Park farther out and ASAP; don’t circle around looking for “choice spots”
- Keep your engine tuned and
- Keep your tire pressure where it should be
- Don’t drive if you don’t really need to
- Use public transportation if you can
- Ride share, car pool, buddy up; help keep someone’s car off the road
- Drive a car with a manual “stick” transmission if possible, or
- Get a hybrid if you are able to
You can read more tips and get beyond the basics here.
Ultimately, as you know, we use oil (petroleum, specifically) for a great many things. A good portion of a barrel of oil is used for non-fuel products, products ranging from heart valves to crayons, plastics to bubble gum. Your car is not only a consumer of oil, parts of it were made out of oil. It’s a no-brainer of an observation to say oil is a part of the economy from top to bottom, really. It’s practically ubiquitous, and not always obvious in its presence. But all you need to do if you want to see oil in action is hang out beside a freeway, or at an airport or sea port, or at a railroad yard. You can practically hear the sky wheezing from all the carbon dioxide (not to mention the “nitrogen oxides, particulate matter, and unburned hydrocarbons” [source]).
So maybe we need to hypermile our lives, as it were, and consider everything we do and all the things we use in our lives that come from or involve the use of oil.
As it turns out, after I had begun composing this post, I had NPR’s Science Friday on while I was driving to a Taco Bell to pick up some foodstuff, and they were talking about the use of petroleum products. The host, Ira Flatow, was talking with author Bill McKibben (see his book, Deep Ecology). They were talking about how much oil is used in bringing things like imported bottled water to us. And it struck me with the force of an oversize interrogative made out of oil barrels: Do we really need imported bottle water? It takes a huge amount of oil per bottle of water to bring it to us. If the choice is between purchasing good water bottled at a local source versus good water bottled in, say, Europe or Fiji, wouldn’t it be better, more environmentally conscious, to buy the local water? That’s a no-brainer, isn’t it? Perhaps the best idea would be to get a water purifying setup for the tap at home, no? How much oil would be saved then? What other choices we can easily make might save oil? Well, of course there’s a page for that. But the thing is, I’m sure you can think of a lot of ways to help save oil on your own. It takes only a little thought. I hope you’ll join me and many others in thinking about what we’re doing, what we can do, what we ought and must do, and then doing something about it because, seriously, we don’t want people in the future to look back on us all with contempt, non-plussed by our self-centered thoughtlessness, stuck trying to muddle through the legacy of our errors. To get to the future in peace, we’re going to need to hypermile our way there.
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04.09.07
Posted in Personal at 6:08 pm by Moody
There is a cost to living, to having a life: you can’t go back; you cannot change what has come to pass. But you can change your interpretation of a lot of it, use it to further yourself, to grow your awareness and understanding, use it to make a better person of yourself. It’s not always possible. Some things, some events in life, are overwhelming in their enormity and scar the body of what some people call the soul. Still, as you grow older you can come to some sort of peace with even a good number of those scars.
The ones who really love you will want to touch them, caress them, soothe you because they will be troubled by the hidden history of those old wounds. Sometimes it will help, and sometimes it won’t. I think that you have to decide on how best to deal with their concern. Most times, I try at least not to flinch. I try to be gentle in telling them they can’t heal such a scar and that it’s best not to touch it. And when it comes to touching another, I seek some sign that it’s OK, that I can, that it’s allowed or even desired.
The sky compasses us all in its embrace, but we cannot always know what the weather is like for someone where they are. I tend to carry an umbrella with me even when my sky is blue and clear, because sometimes another’s sky is raging with rain. And even though a person you care for won’t always take that umbrella, you will both perhaps feel a little better because you had one with you just in case.
For love, I will exert myself, make the effort, stand tall and be all ears. My personal pain has taught me that much at least. I will give you my love and I will listen to you in acknowledgment that you matter. You matter. This life matters… because we can make meaning out of it, which is the same as finding meaning in it. Your meaning and my meaning, her meaning and his, — they are all uniquely our own, and what we share enriches us and each other (if we are fortunate). Where our myriad facets of meaning meet there is a chance for understanding just a little more of this life while we live it.
The most important thing you have is conscious perception. It is the tool with which your imagination builds experience. The goal of enlightenment (should you choose to call it that) is not only to make the lens of the tool as clear and clean as you can; you must learn to how to focus it, turn it, zoom in and pull back with it, so that you can see as much of the full picture as possible while retaining the ability to choose your frame. In the end, you will want to become the artist of life. In the end, you will disappear into the world.
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04.08.07
Posted in Atheism, Politics, Society and Culture at 3:28 pm by Moody
They talk without being criticized nearly enough:
“When the Christian majority takes over this country, there will be no satanic churches, no more free distribution of pornography, no more talk of rights for homosexuals. After the Christian majority takes control, pluralism will be seen as immoral and evil and the state will not permit anybody the right to practice evil.” — Gary Potter (Catholics for Christian Political Action)
They get free time on the airwaves and are paid by flocks of the faithful to guide them:
“I know this is painful for the ladies to hear, but if you get married, you have accepted the headship of a man, your husband. Christ is the head of the household and the husband is the head of the wife, and that’s the way it is, period.” — Pat Robertson (Christian Coalition)
They hold positions of governmental authority and have great influence on public policy:
“The ‘wall of separation between church and state’ is a metaphor based on bad history, a metaphor which has proved useless as a guide to judging. It should be frankly and explicitly abandoned.” — William Rehnquist (Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court)
They would teach our children:
“The Christian community has a golden opportunity to train an army of dedicated teachers who can invade the public school classrooms and use them to influence the nation for Christ.” — James Kennedy (Center for Reclaiming America)
– They are the American Taliban.
Like it or not, we, as Americans, are involved in a culture war as surely as Middle-Eastern nations are involved in one. It is a war of ideas — ideas that make policies — the outcome of which will determine who controls America. Lately the focus has shifted to an especially anti-science tack, but it is still a part of an overall strategy by a vicious core of Dominionists whose goal is nothing less than the theocratic take-over of America.
It’s a long way from my childhood. Sitting here writing this on Easter — a holiday that means nothing to me now — I can’t but be drawn back to my childhood. I was raised as a Catholic during the liberal ’70s. The church that my parents, and therefore I, attended had long-haired twenty-somethings in front of the congregation, sitting there in blouses and flowery skirts, corduroy pants and peasant shirts, playing acoustic guitar and bongos, and singing about the “Unity of All Humankind”, and the most often repeated message was that love, acceptance and compassion were the truest and best characteristics of a great human being. It was as progressive a church as you were likely to find, really. Which is not to say I understood or even knew then about the Roman Catholic message or the history of the Church.
And that’s sort of the point. Had I been a faithful member and grown up believing, never seeking to plumb the depths of its secretive mind, it is not at all unlikely that I’d have accepted whatever moral and political positions the Pope dictated. I would have done what my parents did, or at least done as they ordered. I would have taken for granted the righteousness of my faith and turned scorn on anyone who called it into question. I do in fact gratefully credit my basically liberal education and temperament for brining me to my senses.
America is, to its fortune, filled with a plethora of cultures, ethnicities, faiths and philosophies. Many of the faiths found in America are ostensibly Christian. And quite a few of these Christian faiths are evangelical or fundamentalist. The numbers of adherents they possess gives them a sense of security in their beliefs; the larger the flock, the greater the courage of ease. I think it is fair to say that the average worshiper is not concerned so much with how his or her personal faith interfaces with the political realm; she or he will vote for the person or party that attracts the majority of the flock or the one the shepherd touts as best. This is certainly understandable. But it also sets up a situation where the average worshiper may wind up as a tool used by those whose agenda is essentially at odds with the supposed core tenets of the faith, and given enough time such leaders with ulterior motives can sway entirely the faith of the congregation, perverting or repurposing it to satisfy their own ends while maintaining the illusion that they are serving the community of believers.
The culture war in America is centered around the conflict between the Dominionists’ and (at the risk of sounding glib) non-Dominionists’ opposing Weltanschauungen. Specifically, in America the enemies of the Dominionists are most often pluralists, socialists/Marxists, and secular humanists, but it would be remiss to fail mentioning that Dominionism is also completely opposed to womanism/feminisim, anarchism, and, ultimately, democracy itself. In fact, if there is anything akin to Dominionism, in theory and initiating praxis, it is straightforward fascism (a point that David Neiwert of Orcinus has eloquently driven home a number of times). To that end the Dominionists have campaigned surreptitiously to recast “Jesus” as something of a Billy O’Reilly-Graham hybrid. The “meek and mild” shepherd model is out, the sword-bearing Savior is in. This image better sustains the political fire fueling the Dominionist machine for several reasons, but the most important reason it is useful is that it mobilizes otherwise pacific Christians in a military way. Naturally, the “War on Terror” has helped the cause. Coupled with the particularly bellicose and morbid fantasies of the very popular Left Behind series, the “War on Terror” is a banner to fly over the “Army of Christ” as it marches to apocalyptic war against its adversaries, personified and demonized as “Satan” and “the Anti-Christ”. What is immediately apparent, too, is that the idea of who a ‘terrorist’ is or can be comprises any and all who oppose Dominionism and its politically charged evangelical ideals. A war on terrorists would to some degree require specific geo-locations to serve as “battle fronts”, and this was almost the case early on when the “Axis of Evil” propaganda was in vogue. But a war on terror itself needs no place, no specific location in the world, because terror is a ubiquitous, polymorphic force with a surprisingly plastic definition that can just as easily turn up in the shape of your neighbor as in a plane crashing into a building.
The theocracy envisioned by the Dominionists (and their allies) is deadly to the democracy painstakingly brought into being by our flawed but far-seeing signers of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution. Theocracy is anathema to anyone who supports the idea that “Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed” (The Declaration of Independence) — a concept that has in fact been attacked by a large number of people both in and outside of governmental offices. In our government’s offices the expected belief in [the Christian] “God” has made the job of the Dominionists easier. Certainly such an expectation of belief has been bolstered by the ridiculous institutionalized act of swearing on the Bible, an act which, like any professed belief itself, has failed to ensure anything in court or in any other circumstances; liars lie regardless of oaths. It might be wryly observed, based on recent history, that those most likely to swear on a Bible are exactly the ones most likely to lie.
In any case, I don’t think that the majority of self-proclaimed Christians in this country want to live under theocratic rule, and I am willing to bet that a great many of them would be more than a little uncomfortable with the goals and methods of the Dominionists. And it should go without saying that thinking Americans will always be, by default, against any form of theocracy, however apparently benevolent in intent, but especially one that is so steeped in arrogant nationalism, misogyny, homophobia, racism and xenophobia. Though faulted a country it was and remains, it was not the American way during this country’s formative years to accept the rule of tyrants, dictators, or kings. I don’t think that that has changed, really. But there is always the danger that — failing the eternal vigilance of those who know better, those educated people who have learned from history — the liberties we as a nation have cherished and striven for will be taken from us by people who in their ignorance, pride, and thirst for power, who in their desire for security and an absolute authority to follow unquestioningly, who in their bitterly rueful naïeveté and all-too-knowing selfishness will sincerely believe they are doing the right thing (if only for themselves and their kin). We have seen it before, and we ourselves have all but done in whole peoples following such desires. Must we do it to ourselves at long last? Are we doing it even now?
We must each remember the parting shot of Patrick Henry — “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!” — and we must set them to a purpose better suited to the global village we inhabit but a corner of; we must make it our hue and cry in the name of all people, of any faith or none, regardless of race, creed, color, ethnicity, and irrespective of gender and sexual orientation. We must bring down the Dominionists and their schemes for an American theocracy. It is long past time for leaving behind our childish things, our black-and-white thinking, our selfish sense of superiority and righteousness. There is too much at stake, and there is so much to learn from the world.
. . . . . .
For more information regarding this topic, please see First Freedom First. Please also check out the Blog Against Theocracy.
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04.01.07
Posted in Personal at 9:45 am by Moody
The glow, the light, the sun, the dawn, the moment, the fire, the reason, the hope, the sky, the waking, the dream… is over. Muscles gently tightened over the course of the night my body lay in a river in the silt breathing weeds and sighing carbon images of blue ammonites and trilobites and transitional fossil fish-birds, the waking stretch is wracked with cool shivers breaking against the warmth of the folding blankets in briny electricity crackling in slow motion across the perimeter of my curving body. I have hidden the bones inside me, made an architecture of them which I call “man”, all of a piece with the geology of sleep-waking, the secret topology of history. And there is a story inside the Wunderkammer found half-buried in the sand and soil on the shore among the saw grass; exposed, first scene: Joe Cornell’s calcareous fibula, tibia, talus and calcaneus, arranged as a bird’s legs walking across the ashen black static of a schoolhouse tabula rasa; the feathers of doves and peacocks, vultures and osprey; a backdrop by Yves Tanguy. The furniture of the future.
Here is a secret no-one will tell you. Do you see?
Eyes blear in surreptitious attempts at focusing on fingers unfurling against the grain of the immediate air. Knuckles ache like cats’ mewling milk hunger the color of cartilaginous joints. And here it can be said that the perception of it is in fact found foundering in the flat red-brown muscles pulling taut against tenterhooks in the midst of a remembered orgasm, weaving back and forth before the looming realization like a thunderstruck ape, hewing to the threads of this Perseus’ web in a founders effect, vaguely amazed to be alive — let alone like this. And how is it I am not deformed into something more beautiful to answer the hue and cry of the lace polished day with its horse latitudes and tropical years? The hair on my skin brushes whole Japanese rock gardens into Tibetan oblivions. I no longer know what I am thinking. Thinking, I know longer no what I am. I just am.
This is not what makes me afraid. The taste of dying is not that of Death’s licorice ropes, not even the lemon grass of Kuan Yin’s steaming wok. The taste of dying is life itself. This is not what makes me afraid. I am not afraid of nothing. Buried here beneath the sheets and blankets and comforter and heady air is love itself, still sleeping. Every new day that comes is finally illuminated by this moment. Cocking my head birdlike inquisitive a hand, half-hesitant, extends up the river of time like a quiet storm front sweeping seasons along in its wake as it moves to intimately touch eternity while eternity sleeps yet, gently undulating blood-warm and self-contained even as it broadcasts its radiation to the stars that don’t feel it. And in the slow well-oiled roll of waters down thru the landscapes of these endless possibilities is found all the raw material of life’s intention, invention, floral and faunal, mineral and physical creation. Mind. Perception. The glow. The shadow. The light. The dark. The sun. The void. The dawn. The moment. The fire. The journey. The reason. The madness. The hope. The sky. The waking. The gloaming. The celestial ever. The question. The answer. The dream…
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