Mind idle, instruments for recording safely away, words of depth, great poetical expression, flit about, no fear another mind may comprehend.
One year, almost easily past, as I continue to transform, and we continue to become, more like what we imagine we can be.
Relaxedly, in commericial not-zendo, I am picked and prodded. Still, I am still and present, in breath, out breath, again. Zazen Spa.
Busily I cast about, here and there, quickly flitting from topic to topic, from concentrated effort to converation, as I interact with peers
Because my ‘natural’ diet no longer includes bark and uncooked grasses I now add those to my diet in forms attractive to the modern mind.
Every ready consumers of worthlessness. Each of us finding meaning and utility in places overrun with data. Most of the information hidden.
Mind empty, but only when fingers approach a keyboard and the mind’s purpose is other than to waste effort on the meaningless.
If I am self-defined should I seek to redefine myself or to become undefined. What are the differences?
What is real about how I feel? And what is it to feel (an emotion)? I can feel the keys beneath my fingers at this moment.
Small town morning walk. Evidence of rural past just down the road. A 1/2 mile from the center of this former mill city on the sound.
I am tired of the narrow, inflexible no. I am tired of the constant reactivity that comes from failure to make decisions. Stop both now.
Thinkin’ o’ ‘u bein’ ‘round. ‘Cause bein’ ‘round ‘ere is nicer when ‘u ‘r’ near.
Fertility festival. Rebellion against decree. Death bed love letter. Number two shower of cards. Will she be mine? I am hers.
Recruiting event. No-fit, mad house. The good, the smug, the fresh, the desperate, the interesting and harried. Interviewed by me. Rejected.
Hardy sharp ginger ale clings to my tongue and holds fast to my throat as it also enters the rest of my body infusing out to limb and brain.
Wonderful morning, sun on the mountains, over the water. I walk through our small town, next to she whom I have wed. We are walkers walking.
I’m off to participate in the civic life of my community.
The first person singular voice of so many of us, my self included, in this cooperative, connected, community of us. We are and yet I speak.
Gentle day. Easy, full but not hurried. Boys, reading, homework, meals. Viewing homes and walks in woods. Conversations. Presence.
Not just to witness but to participate in the glorious chaos that is our democracy. That was my right and my responsibility today. Beauty!
Barack Obama in town, moves a large crowd toward participation in tomorrow’s caucus. The wife, the boys and I will be there. You?
I saw candidate Clinton here in Seattle, Bill that is, I saw President Clinton too. Now I’ll go see candidate Obama. Maybe president too.
Twirl, swirl, but don’t unfurl. Whirl, curl, and relax with a warm cup of coffee and a good book.
Noise and distraction, not external but internal, all tied up with the language of time as metaphor of space.
Rest in that wordless place, then spew words into it. This is not that wordless place. This place abounds in the useless. Rejoice.
Word of the Day: disingenuous. Hey, it is political season and ‘super’ Tuesday. What should we expect?
Gate: Your ability to protect yourself from interruption may be the measure of your position in the enterprise, or your devaluing yourself.
This moment is not seperate from the ones that proceeded it or the ones that will follow. Who is slicing reality into parts called moments?
Superbowl complete, upset over, diet broken for part of one day. Jessica Alba pregnent and engaged. These are the distractions of a moment.
Into another day, along and on the way, from where I was, through where I am, to where I will be. Unknowable.
Having completed this and that and having decided not to do the other, I now embark upon another set of nexts.
Here I am preparing to phase change from what I have been doing to what I will be doing next.
Yes, I’m still up for a little while more. I have so much I wish to do and yet, I waste so much time too. Perfect I’m not, good enough, yes.