“never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself” --Confucius

100106 10:31
‘Power -- Meditations & Random thoughts’
I no longer wonder why Epiphany signaled the end of my desolation. Or the labor required to crawl beneath the monolith of Christmas. What I have now I would not trade for any amount, or places with anyone, including God. Impossible as that is, actually inconceivable, yet the thought demonstrates power best.
As real as God is to me, I have become real to myself, and that is not an exercise of ego but reaching above my terror and finding the ceiling of life and love manifest and total.
Of political process, and that of religion, I am sad to say that I find no power above pretence. Do No Harm Period.
Power is for you alone to give empowering others their opportunity to amplify--like the Sun--growth and the will to live life at all.
I am right for me, and need not be right for you. I only suggest that you look within yourself and accept the grace and power inherent in the brief or long moments allotted your consciousness. The perfect teacher and school is within you and no one can gainsay that.
I am a rebel with a cause. Aware that there are those of us who have fallen into the darkness of our terror manifest in ways that possess us. Expressed and published in the destruction of specific victims, victimizing ourselves, to slake our thirst for truth. Apparent to me is Jesus and all else falls away.
The finger I pointed, shouting “YOU” messages, is no longer outward, but equally inward. I conclude myself disabled to judge or destroy anyone or thing.
I am not attempting to publish a “mail-order-course,” for profit, on how to heal yourself. I am merely using “I” messages to communicate the potential of magnificence in you. There is no “good, better, best” but in the final measure, in each second, there is an I/Thou involved. Rigid attitudes and conclusions are easily destroyed by those who hold them dear as ideals fixed and immutable. The energy required downs out all the potentials of seeing “normal” differently.
After 69 miles of hard road, I am unwilling to rest, pensioned off, basking in the sunset of my life. Should the system of my subsistence fail I will learn to live in and upon the land, or gladly expire the effort.
It is wise, or so I believe, to remember Jesus was not a Christian. And that God is not either. Confucius expressed the Golden Rule best, or so I think: “never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself”
. . . please continue

"I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand." --Confucius

100106 11:37
‘Power -- Meditations & Random thoughts -- continued. . . .’
I experience my time as beginning in chaos and desolation ending in peace and balance. Despite the reek and premature death of paranoia enveloping the earth, then for me, now for everyone else.
Well aquatinted with my bigotry and hypocrisy I question everything; all motives and intentions, conclusive or otherwise. Metaphorically I am an intellectual trapeze artist moving from one secure ideal to a more mobile support that might serve others as well as myself. Sans safety net or nuclear bombs.
It there is a future, obviously it is in doubt to me.
Perhaps even a foolish consideration given my age and self-published desire to get off the Merry-go-Round; riotous in erratic elliptical gyrations. Nevertheless there is the issue of what might I leave behind? An apple seed growing into a fruit bearing tree, giving nurture long after I have left the stage. Ignore the mythology of an apple &/or a serpent giving it as evil. Actually I am far fonder of Kokopelli, then Johnny Apple Seed or Jack The Giant Killer. Consciousness implies no evil in and of itself. Death measures the value of life.
Choice is everything and a responsibility for those aware of it as an issue. Everything else seems to be “kill or be killed” . . . who assassinated Jesus and why? Least you get on your high horse and say, “obviously the Jews!” Beware your/our ability to project upon others issues we refuse to question, or the potential of acting upon, without serious consideration the consequence of. . . . I’ve made a fool of myself too often before. Apparently the potential has never left me. But then laughter and music calms the most savage beasts--myself included.
I too act on partial information with the caveat that I do not want to lead anyone astray from the book written upon their soul and life.
We have an instrument of education for everyone on the World Wide Web. Efforts to censure it for various reasons seem to abound along with the eclectic nature of our curiosity about everything; burgeoning, given the paucity of interest in all other mediums commercially governed or property at issue.
On Wikipedia---for whose continuance I donated an obscene--for me amount--never to be replaced except by eating pet food in perpetuity---we can find threads leading us, if not into TRUTH at the very least contemplation of what truth means to us individually--then collectively.
God does not speak any one language exclusively.
Before I close, as close I must given, your fruit fly attention span--not merely to me but yourself equally avoided: I am aware that my identity is compromised every time I log on. Further that my choice of donation is an indication read by people, at least some, as subversive to their choices.
Whenever I call for assistance regarding issues, I hear, “This dialog will be recorded for training purposes.” Depending upon my patience, or impatience, I sometimes see myself being beaten to death with telephone books and/or rubber hoses by those who think me a dissident threat to the status quo. And at that it is I who is being trained/constrained into obedience to their agenda/intentions: They win, I lose.
Politics was never intended to become a professional vocation. Instead, or so I believe, it was to be a civic obligation temporarily exercised. Frankly I am not impressed by the current state of civil war manifest in Congress and know of no politician I would entrust to carry my shoes to the cobbler for renewal. Instead I do trust in God and all of you to find a way for the world and life to have a future. Need I mention supervisory professional clergy?
Nothing is hidden from God and all are accountable.
. . . my ideal economy/ecology is win/win.
"I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand." --Confucius

Few of us realize that we have a God given right to be ourselves

100106 12:06
The Hurdy Gurdy is being played faster these days. Solo, it calls the dance for life and liberty at a frenzied pace. I know few as blessed as myself born, raised and sooner-or-later to die suffused in music: frantic and slow, laconic sighs, blues to minuets. Never forget Stravinsky!
If you want to live--dancing--you must pay the ‘fiddler’ or hurdy gurdy musician.
Few are allowed to stand aside as audience since all are required to leap and shout about everything under the sun. The riotous din is, staggering, drunk with chaos.
Sadly I must invoke memories of my father’s intentions for me. It is merely that our parents are our first and primary teachers; by word and demonstration. A poor, gimp and lame imitation of our real Mother/Father/God.
In recognition that I could have been burned at the stake, then--and perhaps now, I stand and deliver my experience for whatever it is worth should anyone attend me.
Life is a participatory event and it may well be that I am both pagan and heretical; I’ll take the change. In empathy and with, or so I now believe, kindness--believe me it wasn’t my fault--I never asked to be born. He gave up his quest for fame and fortune and burdened me with a musical vocation; selling the instruments, and ink defaced flesh of dead trees.
Vaulting the walls surrounding culture and civilization, I am impaled upon my pike/petard. Knowing that trees sing, in fall, winter, spring and summer, I am stunned, actually knocked unconscious by my metaphor and simile, remembering the ‘forbidden fruit’ and the tree upon which Jesus was hung sighing His last breath. Trees actually sing in birth, life and death. Perhaps I am a Druid?
Think the Amazon River basin denuded.
. . . for the lowing of cows.
Oh well.
Few of us realize that we have a God given right to be ourselves; as painful as that may be to the administrators of the kindling and match to immolate me before I finish this sentence. Peace is not seditious. Now doesn’t that sentiment open doors of iron, steel or stone?
Wisdom is a woman I court daily and constantly fail her embrace. However amongst us she remains a scullery maid in the basement of our institutions. At the loss of a shy brief half smile she awaits our attention flirting with her role as mother, wife, sister, cousin, lover. Or whatever role we assign her in our oblivion. At what cost? The loss of everything we cherish: peace, love and the meaning of life.
The Shepard’s Crook will soon drag me from this brief stage, into the night preceding & following my dance--in no lime light, lurching--into the endless night again.
I hear no applause, one-handed, or otherwise, I tap-dance for myself pleasure.
In closing my ‘act’ I can only say that I celebrate both sets of parents tossing roses to them off stage.