the pelican

once more with feeling

waking

it isn't as if any of this could mean anything beyond its moment. still, it felt as though it did. it does. all very important. yes yes yes. oh dear.

thoughts arise. pull one down and examine it or let it go and it dissipates. dissolves. evaporates. and it is replaced with another.

these thoughts, they come and go and come and go.

they are mine. i made these up.

are they mine? where have they come from?

something i saw last night about the earth's magnetic core. a scrap of radio news. a piece of garlic returns. wondering. fondness. longing. memories. a dog is always barking somewhere. breezes.

wipe off the blackboard with a big soft eraser and all is clear and dark and soft and black fading to gray to silver white.

and another. a bright flower floating on the water. a picture. the smell of toast. a wave of anxiety as the tick of time ruffles through.

these thoughts keep coming and going. life and death. death and life. come and go. left to right. up and down. in one ear and out the other. breathing in. breathing out.

a pulse of sadness. a gripping in the chest. an anxious moment. comings and goings. comings and goings.

where did that come from? why would i think of these things? these are my thoughts. i created them. mine. mine. all mine. they belong to me.

no. they are not mine. they have only passed by. passing by. floating through on the stream. coming and going. these thoughts are not me.

what to do what to say what to be what what what?

sssshhhh. here you are. yes.

and the kettle? and that crack in the wall? did he remember to call? wasn't there something . . something forgotten? something hidden. something missing. something anything anything?

nothing. nothing.

should have should have. drat drat drat. already happened. already gone.

here it comes. there it goes. oh and this. there it went. there. there. what was that?

thoughts arise. how much examination is necessary?

activity. chatter. nervous nervous must fill must think must fill void. must think this through. must focus. must must. ok. if you must.

must what? just must.

whatever. do as you must.

what do you want?

nothing. everything. so much. it's all just beyond reach. around the next corner. oh dear.

let it go. let it go. sssssh. it's ok.

ok. ok.

here it comes again. longing. a pull. desire. a grip.

just let it come. let it be. feel it. watch it. let it go. let it go.

fading fading fading.

movement. stillness. movement. stillness.

peace.

gentle. so gentle. soft quiet thoughts. coming and going in wisps. subtle colors blending breathing melding.

vibration. movement. connection. gratitude. bliss.

awareness.

this was always here. at the center.

the thoughts, the chatter, the movement, the longings, they come and go. come and go.

but this.

this.

this is now.

posted by: limine at 09:29 | link | comments (2) |

context

there she was

right in the middle of it

before she knew what was happening

before the wind had picked up

sensing the inevitability

on the edge of something precarious

simply slipping

gently sliding

rock a bye baby

when all of a sudden

out of the blue

beyond the horizon

before it struck the hour

inside the hidden garden

behind the restaurant

off the alley

under the bridge

where they could see the meteor showers

that's when

out there

from back inside

deep in the dining room

over in the corner

at a small table

behind a large plant

next to the column

near the back of the bar

on a dark purple carpet

the scene begins

posted by: limine at 21:14 | link | comments (2) |

mortality

yeah, it's hardwired in.

not sure if it's a flaw in the system, though still we would fight it as though it were.

many fear it and most don't want to know about it. can't think about that. no sir. this is life and that is death and just not going there. nope. fingers in ears. la la la la. stuff to do, places to go, people to see, shopping lists and dirty laundry and letters to write and and and and and.

ah kierkegaard, me buddy, that first existentialist with his unique and original statement that existence preceded essence. that the “am” must come before the “think.”

he did have so much to say about our individual states of alienation, the awareness and knowledge of our own inevitable death. how our imagined ends isolate us. fill us with fear and dread.

thus out of fear, we are the creators of our own meaning. our destiny is not a foregone conclusion, but an ongoing process. individual expressions have a say. or a stay. some say.

now how's that for a dose of performance anxiety?

still, he was the knight of infinite faith, this original existentialist.

leap of faith.

kind of throws the whole fad for a loop, doesn't he? nothing up his sleeve.

just a fair bit of rationalization.

and he chose to believe in something despite a lack of scientific proof because he understood how beneficial it was for him emotionally, psychologically, even physically. not for others, necessarily. just how he knew it to be for himself. because he knew himself. and he knew he had it in his heart to do so and could not do otherwise. it was, in some sense, the essence of his existence, wrapped up close and tight and bundled with his will to live.

harumph! and what sort of philosopher would cheat so? honestly. a brilliant thinker, father of existentialism, a radical, a voice against the machine of the system, the individual who admitted he was threatened by the overwhelming weight of the oppressive collective majority. call it ego if you must but there he was, still and all, a philosopher who squawked back at the brilliance of hegel's inevitable evolution and intricate system of processes and dialectics and said hey man, what about ME?

for perhaps he understood, even before merleau-ponty, the true primacy of perception, the ultimate existential ontological essential awareness of himself. and so, in full awareness, he took that leap. of faith.

well death is kind of scary. ok, it's way scary. it's the unknown. it's not this. as far as we know anyhow. and what we know has got to be preferable to what we don't know or understand. it's just got to be better. right?

yet sometimes, when all we can see is our own isolated suffering, death may not look quite so bad . . .

oh please.

and some of us, well, some become so obsessed with this element of a time limit, a finite package of allotted time that we scurry around madly in desperate attempts to create and make and force things into being simply to feel that we have left something behind, thereby in some manner cheating death's finality. fearing that our deathbed regrets will be the sense of not having accomplished enough. not finished our projects. not done a good enough job. not been enough. not seen enough. so better run run faster faster time's a wasting. got to extend that ego justification. got to go go go. do do do. get that experience in. work it baby, work it. shake it shake it make the most of what you've got.

and if you don't, well shame on you. shame shame shame.

yeah we all know how important our life is to us. or not. but so much so that we're all quite ready to tell everybody else how they should be living theirs. and shame shame shame on anyone and everyone who doesn't do it like we think they should. why they're all wasting their lives. the whole lot of 'em. wasting i tell you. oh for shame.

ingrained and reinforced it is, this sense of the guilt, payment due for the experience of existence, why we should be so grateful for this sensual individuated life of pleasure and pain and the drive the necessity the obsession for it to possess creative meaning, to have had a purpose, left a mark. been something. done something.

instead of understanding what we really are. accepting the divinity of the instant. being fully present. mindful and clear. perhaps it is merely and opportunity. an opportunity to understand. to learn. to  become. to see. to be.

nope got to leave some sort of lasting imprint on the world. some material proof that once we did exist and heck yeah but we were so very important.

like Ozymandius, lying in the dust, hacked off at the knees. sneer in tact. a king of kings. immortal and powerful. well, at least he's lying on his back, looking up at the stars.

thing is though, these biological bodies, these soft tender fragile sensate nerve bundles of packaged imagined individuality still have within them, this will to live.

it is the nature of all organic matter to thrive and continue.

so live we must.

and so much of science, in its attempts to save us from our natural selves, may always look for the fountain of youth. prolong the lifespan. more hormones. more youth. more drugs. more procedures. must have more. must cling to this body and manipulate the forces to do so for as long as possible. for to succumb to aging, that would not be attractive. and illness? painful.  and death, well, that would just be a complete failure then, wouldn't it? mechanical weaknesses. design inefficiencies. structural problems. kind of rubs right up against the grain of art, doesn't it? this innate inevitability of age and illness and decay and death? entropy?

no no no, that doesn't leave an important mark of a distinctive ego!

and herein lies so much suffering. this grasping, clinging at life that these sensate bodies and their passions must try to possess and control and manipulate and extend and prolong. how long should we grasp? how much should we do? there is quantity of life and then there is quality of life and then there are these strange little judgments and conceptions and perceptions about what it all means and what should i do oh what should i do?

for now in this moment, in the breath, this is all there is. this is what is known. well sort of. perhaps that's debatable.

but this is the instant. this second. this now.

this is all there is.

and there is reward in endurance and a desire to continue may perpetuate itself for as long as this particular perceptual combination can last. this will, this strong will to live, may continue to strive for survival for some time.

and we say that it is hearty, this will to live. a hearty will to live. at its heart.

oh it's a fighter, this life force. doesn't give up easily. nope.

and yet, though we feel so alone as we face our individual death marches, still we know it to be the great equalizer.

for death will come to us all.

or maybe we go to death.

that is, everyone who has come before has gone. gone before us. crossed to the far shore. poof.

all our ancestors. our families, relatives, good friends, pets, creatures, everybody. everybody dies.

and life goes on as long as well as, well, how long does it go on? as long as we are still breathing? is that breathing on our own, or on a machine? or is it as long as there are brain waves? consciousness? awareness? or the possibility of returning to consciousness? a heartbeat? a memory of an existence?

oh dr. frankenstein, tell us the story of AI again, won't you?

my great aunt Juanita died fairly young. was going in for a routine removal of appendix or something. but she just knew. she just knew that her time was up. she wrote in her journal. she wrote she just knew. in her heart. nobody believed her. thought she was being a bit dramatic. probably just scared she was, that's all. oh but she knew better. and she left them standing there wondering what happened, how could it be but she was gone.

and then there was my grandfather. the doctors all said he would die. bladder cancer. before i was born. removed lots of stuff. had a little bag attached. gave him a couple weeks, then a little more. yeah they decided he was a tough old bird, so maybe a few months. moved himself up to the old homestead in the mountains to die. no plumbing. no electricity. no phone. chopped wood. hauled water. climbed the rock to raise the flag every morning and again to take to it down each night. lived on cinnamon rolls, bourbon, camel straights. oh and he took aspirin for the pain. and he used to give me ten dollars on each of my birthdays out of the social security check he lived on. he showed me the stars through his telescope. he lived about 17 or so more years and died when he was damn well good and ready, thank you very much.

and gandalf, our dear gandalf. he says death is just another path. one we all must take. he says the gray rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. and then . . . you see it.

see what gandalf?

eh, so see the movie. don't want to spoil it for you.

the point is, all things pass. everything must go. we're living in a continual going out of business sale just like the oriental rug shop down the street for the past 30 years. every day is a final markdown.

a final countdown.

and what will i find? how will i know when it ends? will i continue to remember to recognize that this is all only the product of my mind? will i see the clear luminescence? will i face my demons and be afraid, or will i laugh and smile at them and know that they are of my own making? will i be able to accept it? will i even have a choice?

maybe it's just something that you just know when you see it. like art. like shinola. like the ring of fine crystal.

will there be that second of realization that instant that one lightning bolt of knowing that you've always known, seen it all before, remembered the love and the necessity and the nothingness and the perception and the being in the moment in between the breaths in that pause in that space in that silence on that delicate fine edge.

yep. yeah it's definitely something i'll know when i get there, but not until. not before. no peeking behind the curtain, no cheating, no practice run near death experience thrill ride training simulation for adrenalin junkies pushing the boundaries of mortality for kicks.

nope. just the real thing.

just like right now.

what is this? this moment? where did that second go?

and so here it comes. in fact, it's already here. whoops it might be gone. that moment passed. or is it now?

we signed on for this dance and it's part of the deal. nothing can kill us because we're already dead.

death is not a failure. it is just the end result of life when seen only from a linear organic perspective gripping back into the past and striving up into the future in an attempt to manifest our desires. what will be oh what will be?

and so they say that death is a great teacher. ah so she is, so she is.

for she will show you your self. a flash before your eyes. and you'll take a good long hard look.

and what will you see? and who's doing the seeing?

is there anybody home?

death just brings it all in a bit closer. brighter. clearer. sharpens the now.

somebody once said that what's real in life will fine itself down.

though the ego will fight it. ego is afraid. petrified. threatened by impermanence.

and the body will struggle. poor sweet old tender thing. it will try its best to adapt and survive and hold it all together. it will do all it can, it will.

but everything will all be right on time. just as it should be.

just as it is right now.

because the heart knows. deep inside, the heart knows.

the heart has always known.

all things pass.

existence does not end for its essence is movement.

creation.

the heart knows.

just listen.

posted by: limine at 20:37 | link | comments (4) |

excuses excuses

by the way, just recently made the big splurge into Mandrake Linux. since i am utterly and completely technically impaired, (that is, clueless), but open to learning new things and anxious to be free of the virus buggy expensive and largely worthless intellectual property that isn't that is Windows, well guess you're all part of this fabulous experiment.

always liked the idea of open source, but always doubted my geek ability. still do, in fact. but the good news is it's up and going. so much easier than i expected! and it looks so much nicer. (on my end, anyway. i realize the bloggy has some issues.) and i love the multiple desktops with all the different gui looks and it's great to have ten different applications running and nothing crashing or conflicting. it's . . . a beautiful thing, yes it is.

and the dual boot is spectacular and all of windows is still there. which was a bit of a disappointment in some sense, like . . . maybe it would have been best to just go cold turkey. it's sort of like being able to visit the house you just moved out of, only everything is exactly where you left it. part of me was sort of hoping i'd have to leave that world completely behind. cut those attachments and swaha. but it's still my little safety valve for now. if i manage to muck this whole thing up i can always return and everything will be there waiting for me to update its virus software and download its ten millionth update for all of its constantly recurring security issues with piles of spam sailing into my inbox and spyware software will need to be updated and oh that pop-up blocker and . . . yes, it's all still there. may delete it later. we shall see.

but in the mean time, true geek i am apparently not, i am struggling, technically challenged as i am. i mean, it's weird really. many of my friends consider me a computer wiz (whiz) only because i tend to be the ultimatee end-user -- well, software applications are incredibly easy to me and i'm not afraid to read and/or use help files, i'm semi-patient with my computer and i actually like to tweak and fiddle. but, as far as actual knowledge goes, or programming of any sort, i am completely without experience and knowledge.

so, in other words, there is much for me to learn and grok and fiddle with. and if you try to IM me, my Gabber shuts down. so please don't take it personally. still working on that. it worked for a few days, but now it's got problems. i've tried GAIM, and Kopete, but GAIM doesn't let me on, won't register me for some reason, and Kopete just appears happily nice as pie but doesn't show any contacts and won't let me send a message.

and yes my fonts are not right, i know i know. but they look ok in a couple of my browsers but not in others, and i'm composing them, revealing the html source and pasting them in the little box.  html is perhaps yet another bit i should learn as well.

anyway, this poor little bloggy may look funny and undergo some changes for a while.

so . . . thank you  in advance for your patience and understanding in this matter.

posted by: limine at 12:32 | link | comments (4) |

sunset thunderstorm

on an early september friday

wild cats in the yard

won't come in

whirling around with the leaves

in the wind

and electricity

crash bashing thunder

splattering on the leaves

a yellow black sky

cracking echoes down the mountains

a pause

and then tree limbs thwack

and all the birds

are silent

in a late summer snap

posted by: limine at 20:13 | link | comments (5) |

pieces of peace

To discover what part education can play in the present world crisis, we
should understand how crisis has come into being. It is obviously the
result of wrong values in our relationship to people, to property and to
ideas. If our relationship with others is based on self-aggrandizement,
and our relationship to property is acquisitive, the structure of
society is bound to be competitive and self-isolating. If in our
relationship with ideas we justify one ideology in opposition to
another, mutual distrust and ill-will are the inevitable results.

~ J. Krishnamurti, Education and the Significance of Life

Through violence you murder the hater, but you do not murder the hate.

~Martin Luther King, Jr.



War is not a necessary condition of life. The root of war, as with all
conflicts, is ignorance, ignorance of the inherent goodness – the Buddha
nature – in every human being. The potential for ignorance lives in all
of us; it gives rise to misunderstanding, which can lead to violent
thoughts and behavior.

~Thict Nhat Hanh, Creating True Peace

 

Worthless are those who injure others vengefully,
While those who stoically endure are like stored gold.

The gratification of the vengeful lasts only for a day,
But the glory of the forbearing lasts until the end of time.

Though unjustly aggrieved, it is best to suffer the suffering
And refrain from unrighteous retaliation.

-Tirukkural 16: 155-157
(Translated by Satguru Sivaya Subramuniyaswami)

posted by: limine at 08:27 | link | comments (4) |

had a much needed chuckle

when i read this:

When the Buddha said that life was filled with suffering, he wasn’t just whistling Dixie.

the rest of the passage continues:

The Buddha wasn’t being pessimistic and nihilistic. He was being realistic and facing the facts. We too need to see things as they are, not as we would want them to be while drowning in the river of denial.

~Lama Surya Das, Letting Go of the Person You Used to Be

posted by: limine at 12:55 | link | comments (2) |

spinning

old people. world is full of ‘em. we’re all going to be one, if we’re lucky enough to make it that far. everyone is aging. there will always be geezers and elders and wise men and cranks and dirty old men and kindly old ladies and retired veterans and bitter disappointed old farts and gentle parental guardians of memories and wisdom and crones and crazies. some seem to face their age with such bitterness and pain as though this natural process is a curse and a failure of their brief ephemeral existence while others seem to smile at their time and display such grace in their late frailty, exuding a wisdom and gratitude, patience in suffering, embracing the world that they know they soon will be departing in peace.

well the other night something pushed me to turn on the tube and there i was in this scary face-off with Zell. what anger and fear fear fear and more fear. and venom. and more fear. self-righteous indignation of the most professionally dramatic oratory pulpit sort of poisonous poise.

like a nightmare. and the worst part the saddest part the heart of darkness exposed was the sight of these people clapping and cheering him on with tears in their eyes as he testified and slammed out each thinly veiled proclamation.

the weird thing is, in part, i actually sort of agreed with him at times. i mean, i do get that spirit of an ideal of courage and honor. soliders who are willing to do battle and defend. believing in a greater good. honorable warriors who put their own lives on the line for others. service in the true meaning of the word. liberators not occupiers. damn straight if there must be a military then that’s the way you’d want them to be. teams of firemen and paramedics and kind policemen and rescue rangers. absolutely.

and in a peaceful society, one that would only call on them when absolutely necessary, that’s the role our warriors would get to play. rescuers and heroes. but we can’t just ignore the reality of the situation as it is today, tempting though it may be to do so. nope. because they’ve been sent in to save the world from weapons of mass destruction by someone who didn’t go himself, someone who didn’t put himself on the line, someone who used them to do what he himself wasn’t willing to do. someone who hasn’t seen war and understood it firsthand, and who maybe wouldn’t use them in such a way, if only he really knew what war was and when or if it is necessary. but he doesn’t.

well anyway this old Zell guy was there to justify this behavior and he was just as angry and foul as they come. and these carefully chosen for the camera delegates just cheered and cheered and clapped and laughed and cheered for his venom. close-up shot of George Bush Sr. just laughing and smiling ear to ear. for war. for hate. they were clapping for hate. he was expressing the crowd’s meaner frustrated frightened spirits and they applauded.

and the state of things looked very dark indeed and sadness settled upon me and there was an overwhelming sense of great despair and hopelessness at the sheer quantity of the heaviness of the weight of fear and ignorance. and i knew i'd better turn off the tube before i was sucked into a whirling vortex.

oh but these delegates were swept up in it. swept up. swept up in the need to feel powerful. in control. when defense turns to offense. when insecurity breeds the need to dominate. fear is the great vulnerability ready to be exploited.

and Zell and all of them, they kept harping on about how September 11 had changed everything.

so perhaps it is no exaggeration to say this could be the most important election in my lifetime.

the whole experience left me feeling quite shell-shocked the day after. slightly rattled and more than a bit frightened. took me a while to come back to, shall we say, a peaceful place. right.

shook through me at work, just struggling with realizations fathoming the power of this performance and how swept up in all of it the crowd was. like helplessly watching the formation of a lynch mob.

and throughout the day i found myself looking around the streets at people wondering if they were potential mob fodder, willing to rise up in hate. how much fear lurked in their hearts. how much hurt. how much they could only see themselves as potential victims of the next disaster.

and my fear was showing then. my fear of all that is beyond my control. my fear of what we can become when push comes to shove. and it's all too big too great too fast too violent.

but then, later that next night, went to see CSN at red rocks. beautiful warm late summer night. warm breeze starry night with some mild gauze cloud covering. the place was probably close to sold-out but not squishy-up-close cramped sold-out. just a full house waving throng of fans but comfortable with room to sit or stand and sway or dance.

seated up about three quarters of the way to the back where a tiny downtown Denver was barely visible in the far left corner of a sparkly valley full of lights over the top of the stage and the east rocks. ah what a place and what a gentle soft colorful crowd of old farts and young kids and just had this sweet friendly family feel good feel going. as the sun set the colors in the rocks turned from vermillion streaked orange to dark red to purple and gray with faint greens and golds. the world looked peaceful and soft and there was reason to make music.

and what a show. this band of old geezers played for three jammin hours. ok a brief break in the middle but this was a show and a half. and Stills just rocked. screaming strat. Crosby smiled his sweet round buddha face smiles. Graham was lithe and graceful. sang like an angel. the kid of Crosby played piano. the whole place just radiated love love love. yep love is all we need. brilliant bright beautiful energy. gently swaying dancing crowd and an orange moonrise over the stage.

felt again part of this beautiful human family in a good way. nothing to fear after all. maybe it will all be OK. maybe the good does triumph. maybe it isn’t only all about fear and hypocrisy and ignorance and frustration and the inability to embrace life and death for what it is.

and they played Buffalo Springfield and everybody sang the words and we all stopped and listened to that sound and everybody looked at what’s going down. maybe all the frightened people won’t just rise up in a loud heil and march themselves into a hateful disaster. there is always hope for change and better future. there is hope if we pay attention. if we stop and look and listen and remember. if we pause to find the clarity that may feel lost, but is always still there if we can only bother to find it and cultivate it and return to it often.

and ah gee felt like i had just stepped out of an angry life and death nightmare into some sort of gentle lilting harmonic idyllic dream. i mean, could have spent the evening getting myself all worked up, turning that tube on again and watching the last night of the RNC but no, instead, spent a soft summer evening with Crosby Stills Nash at Red Rocks.

what a juxtaposition. a full and complete flip flop of the spectrum of possibility. stretching out the full emotional crowd experience pallette like a psychedelic rubber band.

did not fear this crowd. nope.

perspective. it’s all just perspective and the filters of the passions as they cloud the vision. the mood the tone the beauty and the fear the anger and the ugliness with a whole strange infinite trip of transition in between.

broke down and finally watched the Passion last night. out on DVD now. rented it. hadn’t seen it and wasn’t really sure about doing it, but did. and there was that darn lynch mob again in living blood.

but then also went out and saw Hero last weekend. brilliant and beautiful and told several times over in different colors, different shifts of emphasis, different interpretations of meaning, different judgments, different perceptions applied to historical events retold as myth and legend for different purposes and different definitions of what it is to be a hero.

so many ways to retell war, retell battle, retell intention and purpose, so many ways to retell bloodshed and suffering, to retell the use of force. offense and defense and everything in between.

and it’s all in the spin.

ever wonder why the national anthem is the star spangled banner? rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air, instead of america the beautiful purple mountains majesty and crown thy good with brotherhood?

yeah it’s all just in the spin.

remember spin art? little round battery operated wheel you squirted paints from small squeeze bottles onto round papers twirling mixing morphing spinning circles of blending colors. heh heh mine tended to all turn out kind of poop brown in the end because could just never quit watching what would happen to the whole as another color was added into the mix as it rotated, transfixed on the center like the eye of a hurricane. it would start out all pink and then add in some contrast maybe some purple or some blue or might just add in a little more yellow, a dash of green and some blue but need a little red on the outside and some purple deep in the center and watch how the whole thing shifts in swirling rainbows, have to have each one added just wouldn’t be complete wouldn’t have it all wouldn’t be true wouldn’t be finished finalized come full circling circle without bits of all of the colors added in.

and the faster everything seems to spin as i get older. each day spins faster and faster and round and round and where she stops nobody knows.

and all the colors get added in faster and faster and everything everything turns to brown.

here comes autumn when the grass turns brown and the leaves will soon begin to turn to yellow and red and gold and brown and fall to the deep brown earth. to the soil to the firmament to the ground to the dirt to the compost to the rotting of the ground beneath us all around us on which we stand into which all things return to the mud to the dust to dust.

feeding the colors of the flowers that return in the spring.

and inside that brown are all the colors of possibility.

posted by: limine at 14:32 | link | comments (1) |

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