Monthly Archives: May 2015
Ever notice how a day seems to take on a mood of it’s own? Today seemed to be a down day for me and I decided to go eat at Gailey’s at 9:25 and they close at 10:00. I could see this irritated the crew since I was the only one there. No mood helper here. So, at the Y my favorite guy was there who always make’s a big production of my entry(an infrequent occurrence). Mood improved…Went to the cycles and worked out next to a white-haired man, obviously in the throes of a physically exhausting work out. . I could hear an incessant drone coming from him that sounded like a religious liturgy or something. At the same time, some dark surrealistic scene in a sepia color was playing out on the TV. Felt like I had interfered with some ritualistic medieval monastery service trying to overthrow the dark forces sacrificing with an atonement of physical suffering. Mood……intrigued. I went to get a double-dip Braums for being a good boy and then to the thrift store. There I purchased Ritual Cello by Adam Hurst, not thinking about the previous part of the day. I am listening to it as I write this…gypsyish, haunting eastern Europe flavor to it…beautiful. Yet, I wonder….who planned my day me, or something else….May the forces of good be with you…..
All Things Large and Small
The trip started as a collection of fantasies perhaps entirely unrealistic that including a renewal of purpose in my life, perhaps some new philosophical or mystical connections. who knows, a blinding soul connection with someone and to by god prove that a 12 year PD limited individual could traverse over 3000 miles without killing himself and others. I’m here to tell it, shakily perhaps, but I do believe my material body is here and quivers just like it always did. I made it a point not to read newspapers of the towns I passed through thinking there might have been horrifying stories of the silver ghost, steed of death wiping out thousands along his path.
ignorance is bliss and toads cause warts.
I’ve developed a new camera lens especially for this trip; a mystical time calibrated telephoto lens completely reversible. I look through one end ad see a 1/4″ diameter yellow delicate flower but through the other end I see a vast yellow nebula without end
If I told you they were one and the same would you believe me?
If I held this lens somehow attached to your consciousness and looked in the other end there might be billions of beings in the lens large and small but equal. Have you heard the phrase god is no respecter of persons? Neither is the force that best describes god to me a respecter of size. When you have a numerator of 1 over a denominator of 5 billion, in my math that equals one. One cannot exist without the other. A stream of consciousness connects a virus to a quad zillion megahertz behemoth machine bodied collective entity the numerator and denominator is one.
Where on this 5 billion light year stream do you fall? Where do you want to fall? The choice is yours.
A tiny parasite has an imagination coefficient .oooooo1 to the 50th power and the other end is an organic supercomputer collective that covers a galaxy end. Both equal one in importance.
I wander down some Texas highway lost and overwhelmed by the wildflower beautiful swaths that at one end is a single flower and at the other end are a trillion yellow blossoms. Next to it a Texas Bluebonnet with flowerets clustered and at the other end every bluebonnet ever created
One can imagine a fleck of star dust casually flicked off a book is in reverse the seething swarm of our being. Want to be the ultimate artist?
Or could we be infinitely small with universes layered and convoluted like a chambered nautilus?
I truly believe that if we can imagine it, it is already in our hands.
We are the collective creator of our world and universe.
I was in tears for I saw the face of the creator in each tiny flower and it was partly me.
If we could all realize how grand and minute we are and how a Jesus, a Buddha or a Mohammed was only a second of our existence here on earth and whomever our fathers and mothers were they often gazed into the void and imagined.