I asked for a light and airy topic for today, 'cause I've been on a wave of heavy again.  What's with that?  It's like tons of bricks on top of words or something.

So, thank you Nyasha, today I am considering the ramifications of the marshmallow.  Her topic... how will this evolve?  Hee hee hee.  First thing in my mind is PEEPS... peeps because they're marshmallows, peeps because they're "fluffy bunnies", and some of us have been manifesting fluffy bunnies in Everett!  Peeps because they might be one the most bizarre things on the planet (especially the red ones).  Did you know when you roast a Peep, the outer sugar crystalizes and carmelizes, and the inside becomes insanely liquid?  I know this.  I know it from experience.

Did you know that when you ask to borrow someone's Peeps, that they get confused and think you're trying to be hip in speech or something?  I know that from experience too.  Nyasha was doing a report on Forks, and part of the report was writing a children's book.  One of her teachers had a multi year old package of Peeps tacked to his wall, which he protected with a vengeance.  There was even a mock trial and sentencing of someone who had eaten one.  I called several times asking if we could take the Peeps on vacation with us.  Imagine what he thought! 

The Peeps were not well behaved.  They trespassed on airport property where they were not allowed.  They sat on the shelves of the liquor store.  They escaped through the bars of the Forks jail.  It was hard to control them.  Who would know that marshmallows could get into such "sticky situations" : )

Christine once went to a Peeps movie with my brother (the older one... ya ya, she sorta dated both).  Now, it was not a Peep Show, or it was a Peep show, but you know what I mean.  I guess the Peeps in the movie were not well behaved either, and she said she will never look at them the same way again!

Do you know what marshmallow is?  My mom and I used to make these cookies at Christmas, and the topping was basically marshmallow.  Gelatin and liquid sugar do the trick... that's all they are.  I know my vegan friends that have never run into this fact are cringing.  No more Peeps for you peeps!  Hee hee hee.  (Gelatin is made from, well they say cow hooves, but really, it's just that gloppy stuff when you cook meat and then cool it and the liquid around the edges cools to blocks of fat and clear "gelatin like" junk, well that's it.  I wonder how they get rid of the meat flavor. I don't know!)

Sometimes the world gets a little too concrete.  It only seems to be that, kinda like the solidity of the marshmallow.  We know what happens when they hit the fire on a stick or hit the top of a cup of cocoa.  There is no solidity, no consistency.  That's really the flaming crecendo (at the end of the stick), isn't it?  We don't have to stay in the heavy, solid territory of existence.  We have a choice.  We can choose to let the illusion of the rock land on top of our marshmallowy selves.  But, undoubtedly, the rock won't do much to the reality of our soft centers!  Thank God, literally, because that's what's there in the core, liquid, solid, or flame... God is in the center.

In continuing with the light and airy mode, hey, bubbles makes a great topic.  If we're marshmallow centered (God centered) but bubbles play in, as Kwami adds, how does that look?

Have you ever considered bubbles before?  Shante sits on the porch and sends them out into the world as a form of meditation.  Sometimes she does it inside the house, hmmm.  That might not be odd if she were three, but she is 15. 

Bubbles are made of soap and glycerin, or home made versions are soap and karo syrup (only gelatin away from being nasty flavored marshmallows).  Think of how bizarre this is.  We take a liquid, move it through the air, and it actually encases the substance of no substance in a round liquid sphere.  And then, this new and separate form of "air" either drops to the ground, drifts along peacefully a short distance, or soars to amazing and heaven bound heights.  The surface is glittering and shimmering all the while, reflecting the beauty of the surroundings, and adding opalescent rainbows to boot!  Amazing!  What could be more amazing than that.  I think scientists call it surface tension(?)... that seems like the understatement of the universe.

Something I didn't say about making marshmallow yesterday is that the gelatin and the sugar syrup stirred together are just glop.  You actually have to whip the hell out of the mixture (I'm being punny, so hold onto that statement) to convert it to marshmallow.  Ultimately, marshmallow is air, gelatin, and sugar syrup... bubbles, gelatin, and sugar syrup.

So, heart and soul, what are we made of?  If our centers are marshmallow, the likeness of God, and the most voluminous component of all is the air... we are virtually made of these bubbles.  This is the encapsulated magnificence of all creation.  This is the consciousness that hides within the weighty material we believe to make us whole.  This is beauty.  This is love.

Soar... reach for heaven.  Glitter, shimmer, reflect.  Be the rainbow!  You already are.

If the world were only normal, if wonders only ceased
If the oysters in the bed had a mattress underneath
If a shooting star used powder
And a lifetime had an end
Would that be for real, or only for pretend?

If Dr. Suess and Silverstein wrote serious, firm quotes
If fairies used the lillypads (instead of frogs) for boats
If I had a grip on every world,
And they never slipped away
Would that be eternal, or would it be a day?

If I understood the plight of man, danced at night with facts,
If my eyes would stay wide open, if I found what this life lacks,
If the world were only normal and wonders NEVER ceased,
Would that be my pearl... and my soul freely released?  : )

Ok, this is definitely where I want to go, but first... the ad on the side of the screen is for a book "The Passion Test, The Effortless Path to Discovering Your Life Purpose".  That would have saved me a couple years of life!  Not much secret in that.  The sequel should be "Getting Started" : )

So, I wanted to share about the massive quantities of drugs I've taken, the orgies I've experienced, the wild and chaotic law breaking history of my being... but alas, I can't remember any of that.  I could blame it on memory loss, but, well, it just didn't happen.

It's about time again to look honestly at what I'm up to...  what are the secrets that I wish to remain secret?  What am I hiding from myself, and maybe some other folks that it effects?  Would it be interesting?  Would I even care to review the details?

Secrets are really strange things.  Mostly they are kept to allow people to divulge or share their own idiosynchrasies in their own time... or for oneself to do the same.  I think of the things I'm not saying right now.  I'm definitely protecting people, or rather, just holding others' confidences in check.  But what are my own secrets?  What do I hide from myself?

Whenever I find a really, really firm wall... I know I've found a secret : )  They're sneaky creatures, 'cause I'm keeping the secret from myself; how weird is that?  I was thinking about pendulums yesterday, ran into a serious experience with someone... NOT my thing!  Or rather, yesterday, I found that wall. 

I am not overly fond of facing my demons!  Imagine.  No secret.  But as I find the spaces and places that cause me to squirm, I spend a lot of time "thinking" about it, about why, about how, about where it belongs or doesn't belong in my existence. 

Do I vote Republican?  Nope, not really much at all.  Does that mean that I don't understand why people do?  Nope again.  Some of my most intelligent, compassionate, and idolized relatives have had that party affiliation. 

And so the pendulum, can I get over it?  Of course!  Will I jump on the idea of using one myself?  Probably not soon, perhaps not ever.  I don't rule anything out... but I actually find the drugs and orgies more appealing!

What are your secrets?  When you embrace them, do you find that you push the fringes of your BEing to the limits?  What could be cooler than that?

Today was the umpteenth year of Railroad Days here in the hick city of Granite Falls.  We celebrated the heritage of the boom town that was OH SO MUCH MORE back in the glory days of trains and mining... of snow resorts and logging...

And there was the parade.  It's a neighborhood style parade.  A row of classic tractors counts as an entry.  Groups of people throw together whatever they want to walk or drive down eight blocks of city street.  It doesn't have to be shining or neat or expensive.  It doesn't even have to agree with the theme.  The whole parade lasts less than an hour.  But ya, it's big enough to draw the Shriners and the Seafair Pirates, a couple of drill teams... Hopefully it won't get too much bigger, or it will lose it's home town appeal!

The girls are in drama.  Nyasha and Karolynne inspired a float this year.  Now normally, the high school crowd is supposed to collaborate on their class floats.  Let's get real for one second... the people who work on them are generally in the "in" crowd, the main cliques.  Although Nyasha and Shante cross lines pretty well, the drama class doesn't normally leap the lines.  I doubt we'd ever see Nyasha on the class float... but next year is another year... her senior year... never know...

And so, the truck and the drift boat and the drift boat trailer (with it's expired tabs 'cause only God knows where it's new license plate escaped to) went to town.  The kids spent all of last night and about four hours of today transforming them into a ship from the Odessey (spelling, don't copy me, I don't know).  Kids donned togas and held mock clappers and threw candy.  The rain POURED  down in buckets... and they laughed and smiled and had a blast.  The water dripped across their banners and melted the ship mast, and they thought of ways to handle it and continued in their happy devotion. 

Amazing stuff.  Whomever said "don't rain on my parade" had not met teenagers at Railroad Days.  If there was sun, if everything went perfectly, if the mast hadn't drooped, and the one boy stripped his drenched shirt from under his toga (ooo la la)... where would the story be?  Why would the grandchildren laugh?  Why would the yearbook care? 

Maybe it's the rain that mattered most of all.

Not even a  page of blogs back, I was talking about Personal Legends, about reaching for what it is to BE, striving for a moving target that is potential, or even just the fulfillment of self. 

Today is a different day, with a different twist.  How does "one" hold this?  Or does the destination shift with each moment?  It is ungraspable.

In the concept of Oneness, there is no one to Be, no one to do anything, no one other than the joined being of us all.  And so there is no striving, no target, no fulfllment.  There is just the unfolding of the All. 

It's not study-able.  It's not really even ponderable, because what we ponder with is flawed in itself.  We can't go to a church or a book or a guru to get it.  What is there to get?  We are it now.  There is nowhere to go, nothing else to be.  We're here; we're complete; it's done.

Why is that not the most glorious unveiling to the heart?!  Why isn't it something we scream from mountain tops, sing from rafters, write in every masterpiece?  Why does the very act of being human hold us from conceptualizing it?!  Frustrating!  But then what is the frustration?  Twisted logic for sure.

When thinking, feeling, and acting just become worthless, surrender is the only option.  I melt into the moments of obvious certainty.  I fall into a definition of love that most have never known.  I dive headlong into the glowing heat and inexplicable explanation that was my mother's death, what is the glory of merging with the Falls, what is the unfolding of friendships where hearts are connected in a way that glows with undeniable brilliance and fire.  For now, that's all there is...

Walking through the matrix of predicament or pain, turning the corner onto sunny, vivid avenues, and then back into the alleys of puzzling scenarios and desolate wastelands...

I can feel no difference. 

It's a total confusion to my mind, a devastation to the heart that reaches for the signs of elation and of sorrow.  It's something of a lyric, like an unheard melody... where the words are slightly slurred and the meaning trails off into the caverns, echoing quietly away. 

If only something would solidify and hold true and bright and clear.  Is that a possibility?  ... Caught thickly in confusion so that I can't answer my own riddle, can't find the glimmer or the light. 

I find it dark, but not so frightening.  Not somewhere to hold or stay... but then no  opening is visible, so here I will remain.

I'm pretty sure that everyone is tired of this topic. It's been a very long time since I've been through it, and it may not even have been here, in this particular discussion format. So maybe you could share your opinions on what it is to be a friend, or to have a friend, or to be called a friend.

I think I worked overly long to find my answers at one point... only to find that nothing remains the same, there is no concrete solidity on what I conclude. Tomorrow the answers change. Sometimes they change before I hit submit. It's kinda crazy here in my mind : )

What is it to be a friend?
What is it to have a friend?
What is it to be called or considered a friend?

Are they answers that differ? How is that possible? Can the answers shift over the decades? Do we leave some behind because of our own transformations (in definition)?

I have answers. Maybe I'll get to them in after I consider yours : ) What I really know is how incredible it is to have the family and friends that surround me. I can actually feel your power and light inside! Isn't that the coolest! I wish the same for everyone, absolutely everyone, 'cause there is nothing more "God" than that. Nothing!

It was a real debate for me, which might be caused by lack of sleep. I pondered... talk about rogue chin hairs (Christine's favorite topic) or about my answers to my own questions. Quite the quandry.

(Oh ya, really tired... the "quite the quandry" statement took my brain to quails, which then made me think of the peacock that is usually in the road... and we sing Peacock in the Road to the tune of Riders in the Storm... and then I thought I SHOULD mention that the peacock has been in a large grass lawn recently. I manifested him there once, 'cause I thought he should "spread his wings" so to speak, try a new venue... get off the side of the road. There he was where I put him. What a weird thing to manifest, like rabbits in industrial parks. DeeDee, I'm thinking my spirit animal just may be that dang creature and his stupid flock!!! What does that mean?... and, ooo, ya, I hate it when I manifest stuff without theta 'cause it creeps me out... and, oh my gosh, sooooo off track!)

Hey, the real question at hand is "can I put the friendship thing to rest"? Probably not! But here's what I asked: What is it to be a friend? What is it to have a friend? What is it to be called or considered a friend? ... and so on. Debby had brilliant answers, if you haven't read them. Last blog down.

Here's where today took me. I was going to be totally metaphorical, but let's go one literal. I spent more than an hour in a conversation about God with a stranger who needed desperately to talk about God, his own Personal Legend, and his historical addiction (wow, was that ever a synchronistic event too... 'cause I happened to be where he was by such off timing, and because I must look like someone else that he thought he knew, and because his name is my husband's name, spelled with a c too, and his sister in law and sister have my name, and although we met in Everett, he's from home territory, and, yikes...). It was part of a long day of reminders, and one that arrogantly (thanks ego) points to that which comes from my direction... but this is an all sided deal.

The bottom line is the simplistic bottom line of existence. All we are, all that we will ever amount to, the only thing that will hold eternally, the only thing worthwhile... is love. That's it. So, if I can't look back on the last five minutes, five hours, or five days, and see where I have been that, been love... I have been nothing. Why do I bother to make my life difficult? Ask the peacock. He's the one that spends his day in or alongside the road. I do the same thing. I could hang out on the lawn! Love is all ya need! The Beattles knew.

And so I think in this week, my week of incredible oversimplification... there is no other answer, and no expansion necessary. If we pour love from within, nothing else matters. The friendship thing is covered! Love the moments, love the world, love yourself, love the people, just love... Love IS all we need.

I know.  I promised sex and love as a topic.  I didn't forget.  My thinking is still wrapping itself around what I want to say.  You know you want me to do THAT "right"!!! : )  And, hmm, there is half a chance that a teen or two might leap in to read what I say, and I'm trying to think about how to be honest, forthright, and still appropriate for kids I know (those I don't know would be fine with anything I wrote).

I'm also a little ponderous about the lack of paragraphs.  Are they back?  Can I italicize again?  I'm hoping so.  That was some weird trip... writing without it.

What's actually on my mind, or running through my mind, or spinning through whatever poses as my mind is the question, "Can you be weak?"  It's a quote from Wee Free Men.  The Kelda asked Tiffany "Can you be strong?"  And they talked for a while about it... and she definitely had no problems in that area.  One of her most obvious qualities was strength.

Then came the hard question, "Can you be weak?"  That was more difficult for Tiffany.  Wanna guess how hard that is for me?  On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most difficult, uh ya, it probably would be as close to ten as mathematically possible.   Or it was.  I'm doing better.  Maybe down to 9?  That's a definite improvement.  Feel free to disagree with me, to reassess that score.   I can take it.

Can I be weak?  Wow!  Can YOU be weak?  We're culturally taught to stand on our own, to strive for independence, to do it alone.  When we throw the twist of spirituality into this mix, it gets pretty ambiguous. 

The tetralemma goes with... there is weakness, there is no weakness, there is both weakness and no weakness, there is neither weakness nor no weakness.  Headache? 

Add this: the spiritual path is alone, all alone, very alone...

So how does this play out?  How do we mix these things to do and be what the Eternal means for our journey?  I'm tempted to sink to simplicity and ignore it all.  But perhaps this is the ultimate simplicity.  We have to be weak, we have to be strong, but we tend to use these in the wrong places.

If you think I have the answers, you might want to wait to ask me until my weakness score hits five!  I promise you I still won't, but, I'd at least have the right to talk.

Today, my best guess is that if we use our strength to pour love over those we encounter, to be love in the circumstances that we find ourselves in, and to stand for those who need someone to represent them and don't have the strength we possess... then just maybe we hit the mark.

The inverse must also be true.  For others to love, we need to be open to that which comes to us.  We have to be willing to be weak.  We need to accept help, accept love, and allow it to touch our hearts and embrace our souls.  We need to consider that we are One with all that exists, and in that our weaknesses are our strengths.  Can I be weak?  Hmmm.

I'm sorta staring at the screen, wondering how I backed myself into this corner!  It's always fun to see how I get out too.  Luckily I can either be the one doing that, or watch the one doing it, so there are options!  Hee hee hee.

A couple days back, I thought I might address this topic, and I know it will take a mini series of 1000's of words to even begin.  What makes me qualified?  Uh, I don't think I am.  Call on Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, or Love Line... better answers, maybe less personal, more wild hostility there.

You'll have to come back for gorey details.  It's almost midnight.  I'm starting with "love"!  (Ya, I can hear you groan.  I'll get to sex eventually.)

There is a human interpretation of the word love.  It's definitely a bond (ya, bondage waits for another day).  But beyond that there is such a wild range of interpretation that I would be crazy to think I could define it.  People love their families, yet that doesn't stop them from creating pain, physical or mental.  People love their spouses, yet there are murder suicides and divorce.  People love their pets, and neglect them, mistreat them.  So what the heck does love mean if those dichotomies are possible?  I hope you're adequately perplexed!

Human love is an absolute crazy, twisted puzzle.  It is based in personal history, based in self definition, and based in societal expectation.  Although, no one can see it, measure it, or understand it, everyone thinks they want it.  I think that may be the biggest mistake of our existence!!!

It's not that love is overrated... well, ya know, Disney has it down.  It's really more that people love with something other than their hearts.  They love with their egos and their emotions.  It kinda works.  I'd say it seems to work a bit adequately for millions.  But is "a bit adequately" what we strive for?  Ugh, I hope not.

There's this really huge difference in what love can be, and it is not something that your spouse is guaranteed to offer.  You may have very few friends that have the capability.  Even your parents may never have figured it out.  I find that interesting.  Maybe sad? 

Love is really the recognition of ourselves in one another.  Love comes from the heart, from our godselves, from the soul.  Namaste.  The light in me greets the light in you.  Is it simple?  Ya, duh!  This is my week of simplicity, so of course it is!!!  To love is to give everything, to be everything, to share everything with another in a way that is true and complete and whole.  It is to be the other.  To love the earth is to recognize that we are the earth.  To love another is to see the reflection of self in his/her eyes and be all that that means. 

Real love changes everything.  Real love completes all existence and radiates the Eternal intention.  Everyone is capable and worthy.  It's a matter of being it.  When we strive to love, love reaches for us.  Amazing!  What could be more magnificent than "true love"?  FInd true love first...

On my way home from dropping Kid Two at a High School meeting, I was pondering last night's blog.  "Exchange oneself for other."  That's the Buddhist principal that is true love. 

We all act and react and play the game of love in that other category... the Disney love category.  Ego and emotions want something.  But true love wants to GIVE something.  Isn't that strange?  I really want to contact Webster and demand some word options.  Couldn't we get love with little tiny numbers next to the e at the very least?  Are we talking outpouring, or are we talking "what does the other have to offer"?  I'm not even certain that I want to go through today analyzing how often I am in the second category.  Would I, could I, even be honest with myself?

Emotion and ego are not involved in the definition of true love.  I'm going to venture a guess and say that most people have truly and honestly spent very little time in this open possibility of existence.   It really requires so little connection in the human realm that it's an act of high consciousness, an act of spirituality, to a point of connected disconnection : )  I hope that's puzzling!  It should be. 

True love and compassion are so personal and impersonal at the same time, that you will have no doubt when you've found it.  Cry, laugh, scream, melt... it's all one reaction that merges in the human form, more like the word surrender than the word love.

I was thinking about the "how" part.  How do we find this?  How do we nurture it in our interaction in existence... in our friendships, our families, our relationship with the planet and it's creatures, in looking at ourselves?  It's a question to throw out to the masses... what do you think?  How is true love born?

How do we take this individual form and contribute to the goal of an all loving existence?

When I was in college, I was madly in love with my philosophy professor (you're hoping for the sex thing, aren't ya?).   Actually, I was madly in love with the subject matter... and the "man" got credit for the material.  When I finished the philosophy classes, I jumped straight to logic.  Logic was my first true love!  Orgasmic, I kid you not!  Logic is a mixture of grammar and math, spun with the glory of a mental puzzle.  I took each class... loved every moment.

That's just historical data.  There was no point! 

I was thinking.  I was pondering, "I think therefore I am".  I'm not particularly interested in the "I" part of the equation... so lets ponder the inverse...
"I do not think, therefore I am not." 

Problem!  Crap.  If I'm saying "I do not think", I AM THINKING!!!  Blech.  So I went out for a walk to not think and not be.

While I was gone, the phone rang.  Nyasha picked up, "I'm sorry, she doesn't exist right now."  Judy answered, "When she exists again, have her give me a call."

Full moon… seems like I should get on with it. I think I've put this off because I really don't know why I would be the one to comment on it. I'm not Dr. Ruth and this is not the 80's. In the scheme of partners, you know I have had one. Creativity? Do you really want to go there? If you really care, I bore easily : ) Artist, remember… makes everything in life require novelty.

But that wasn't the point, might be interesting, but wasn't the point at all. I've been on the theme of love in spirituality, right? (Back up a few blogs.) That's where this was going. When we think of the body, mind and emotions… there are several twists with sex.

I'm guessing most of the world has experienced sex as an emotional or physical encounter unrelated in any way to the term love. The basic drive that runs the generations of any mammal remains within us. It works for some, can even be addictive, or productive (literally). But which subheading does the term "love" have in this case? Does lust count? Does procreation count? Does the generalized quest for physical reactions count? (You have to admit that I'm doing a superb job of avoiding the "tacky" genre category!)

OK, in some ways, everything counts… we are love… and I won't negate that there is always a point, somehow, someway.

But there is a deep opportunity to experience sex in a spiritual way that moves the ordinary to extraordinary. It moves the concept of sex to the outpouring of "true love"… and I dare say most people have never run into it, and may never come across it even if it is available to all. In the book When Fear Falls Away, Jan Frazier brushes up against it. Books on the Kama Sutra and Tantric Sex encourage people to reach for it.

There is a difference between doing anything as an individual, or doing the same thing from the space of spiritual unity, of merging the nature of individual life into the Oneness of being. Sex is a doorway to heightened awareness and consciousness, to spiritual love beyond our dreams. The potential is like comparing flashlights to sunsets.

"Membership has it's privledges." Hey, that reluctant partner just might grab a yoga cushion or meditate for a few minutes if there was a carrot dangling somewhere in the bedroom (or under the sunset, or on the beach, or at the base of the waterfall….)

What a bizarre and surreal day!  Everyone should have those once in a while, just so there is a definition of "normal" to come back to.

I was thinking of one of the principles in my spirituality, the watching.  I was intrigued by the "watching" a few times today.  I think the term might get confusing to some who come across it.  Although, I'm sure many people who watch their bodies are on another level of existence, there is a watching that anyone can do, observing, noticing. 

I'm also guessing that just about anyone can shift to the perspective of seeing the body, thinking, and emotions as toys... something to play with.  It can be easy on simple days and nearly impossible on the days filled with complex problems.  But I know that all can be successful if they try.

Today, I was noticing... first, that there were several times that my body felt like vomitting would be a glorious thing to do.  I'm not sick.  I have no idea where the idea came from.  I was glad there was no follow through, but I wondered if I had to agree with myself to finish the idea.  (Maybe I need to stop taking the multivitamins again... I am soooo unsuccessful at that.  My body seems to hate them.  How can that be?  Iron?  I've tried the ones without, and that was the best guess of many.)

The second thing I observed was tearfulness, or the wish to cry.  (OK, no, I never felt like crying and yawning in technicolor at the same time... so don't even go there).  I didn't.  I felt like my body had the energy to just do it, like Nike.  I wasn't sad, had no core reason at all.  I could just tell that my body would have loved the opportunity to sit and pour tears down my face.  Hmmm.  Interesting.  I wasn't against it either... just never had the chance to make that a priority.

As the day progressed, Nyasha and I went to the See Center to pick up our glasses.  This is a novelty for me... one I have waited 24 years to come.  When I was 18, the Optometrist started saying that I would have glasses the next time I had a check up.  He was horrible at manifestation.  I didn't, and didn't, and didn't... presumably another twelve times I was told the same thing (if I never skipped an appointment, hmm).  Way back, I was psyched to get the aqua contact lens', and truly disappointed when there was no prescription.  This time, finally, I just thought it would be "cool" to have the experience.

It wasn't the visionary enlightenment I was hoping for : )  hee, hee, hee.  I got a grip on Claude Monet's ideals.  He did paint just as he perceived.  At one point, the story is told, he was given corrective lens'.  After peering through them, he dramatically threw the spectacles aside, swearing that he preferred the world he knew.  So it is told.  I would love to see (and paint) the world of Monet.  I must be careful what I wish for.

I picked my glasses when my eyes were dialated.  I wanted the kids to help me choose something amusing.  I couldn't even tell what color they were!  And I was truly surprised at what they look like.  But I don't think anyone would call them amusing really... kinda trendy, but nothing that stands out.  I don't suppose many people will see them anyhow.  They're for driving in the dark and rain, maybe for movies. 

Honestly, I don't even think there was point to the prescription.  It's equal magnification on each side, and almost imperceivable increase, almost.

I wore them out of the office, for the fun of it.  The first thing was a ramp. Hilarious.  I could not stop laughing.  The message from my thinking and the message from my vision were so different that it was like I'd been shrunken... like I was shorter, but didn't know it.  Where did my feet belong?  And I laughed more.  I decided that driving with them on was probably a really bad idea (for a while).

The glasses change the distances just enough, change perception a minute amount, and everything else shifts to meet it.  How are we doing that in our own lives?  Where are the twists in our perception altering our behavior to meet it?  Questions to ponder! 

It was totally fun to play with... maybe not a few hundred dollars worth of fun, but there's a lot of new noticing in it.  God gave me darkness and rain tonight to drive in.  The glasses transfer information from behind and along side through light and shadows.  Very interesting, very strange.  But definitely novel.  Were they worth wearing for heightened visibility? NO!  Were they worth wearing?  But of course. Play.  Play with your mind, your emotions, your body, your ego.  It's always worth it!

Ranting and ranting the last couple days, why?  Hmmmm.

There's something that keeps this "love" topic going when I've been long done with it... we come back to the definition of "I" over and over, don't we?

Do I love myself?  Maniacal laughter...  Do I?  I had a conversation about this with Eric yesterday, and I was frustrated with the twisted outcome, the inability to express what I was trying to say.  Debby has commented on different facets of loving self in the blogs below, covered the topic thoroughly too.  But I haven't solidified it in words yet, haven't captured the moment of thinking on the topic. 

Here is the bottom line for me.  It is the definition of the word "I", the definition of "myself" that creates the puzzle.

Let's pretend for one moment, that same moment that will fleet away and become fluid... let's pretend that I'm talking about the emotions/body/ego/mind combo that resides on the planet.  Do I love myself?  I have a hard time with this, because to ponder that, I actually step away into something else and look back.  I separate from those and look back at them.  OK, get it?  How can that be "myself", how can it be the I/me combo if when pondering it, I step away and consider whether I love it?  Argh.  Try again. 

Holding myself inside those human characteristics, do I love myself?

Webster's love: "An intense affection for another based on personal or familial ties."  Rockin', I've got that down.  "A strong affection for or attachment to another person based on regard or shared experiences or interests."  Schitzophrenic, but ok, got that too.  Hmm, get's hairy now... stuff like "Intense sexual passion" and "Intense emotional attachment".  What do I do with that?  OK, I can agree in some strange way.  However, I really like this best:  "A zero score in tennis."   Yep, that's me for sure!!!

I know that didn't get anyone anywhere, but it made me laugh! 

I think where doubt arises, it actually arises in others.  I haven't spent time pondering self love much.  If I did, I think my interpretation would be that I should stop looking "in the mirror" and start pouring outward.  Balance is where the question comes in.  Do I love myself?  If that means putting myself before others, I don't.  A curse.  If that means seeking a healthy balance, I don't.  That's a personal challenge that I may be working on for the rest of my life.  The planet based gift of "self" does need more attention and focus, and I do always think I'll get to it... but time is limited, and I don't prioritize well, or rather, don't prioritize in balance.  There's my "self hate"... but never in a million years would I interpret it as such, 'cause there's a flip side.

Arrogance is one my favorite traits in this body/mind/ego/emotion package.  If that parades as love, I can go there.  "I" appreciate the being that I am, the talents I've been given, the intelligence, the humor.  I admire so many of the traits, and admire the capability to love the opposite things in others.  I love the open mind, the breadth and diversity of contribution, the things behind and the potential forward.  I love the challenges that are presented, and the unique and surprising ways they are handled... and then the boring and predictable ways as well.  I love my stability.  I love my instability.  I think this might be gratitude more than anything else.  I have the highest gratitude to the Eternal for what I am.

But as I made that final statement, I stepped back outside, didn't I?  And in that is the real puzzle of self love.  Just as I love the people around myself for the idiosyncracies that make them unique, I love myself in that same way, from the outside.  Everything else that I have written is impertinent, temporary, illusory.

For me, love is the connection to the Infinite.  Love is the heat and light and vibration and pure sound that is meditation without perception.  Love is being held by God, being within God, recognizing the godself within.  Love is the perfection of the moment, when love itself glows out from within and connects me to you, or the sunset, or the moment.  Do I love myself?  If only there were words...

I noticed that there were not so many moths, being late fall now... but they look really cool under stadium lighting.
I noticed that I know a lot more about football than I claim to know or ever wanted to know, when I actually watch the action (that's rare).
I noticed that Chelsea is about the coolest Homecoming Princess that ever lived!
I noticed that the football energy of teens is a lot more positive than the football energy of groups of men.
I noticed that the weather cooperated, and the sleeveless dresses didn't cause blue skin on the girls shoulders.
I noticed that the sports authorities are working very hard at making sportsmanship a part of the game... and it looked authentic, felt real... I like that.
I noticed that I'll miss the real grass when we move to the new field, 'cause there is something about sliding in the dirt that makes things more, hmmm, "real".
I noticed that it was amusing to sit in a bleacher seat and tie for tie dye... and it was amusing to watch Judy crochet (and be thrilled to see the numbers of the scoreboard change 'cause that's the part of the game that she was watching).
I noticed that none of the girls that I am connected to ever sat down to watch the game.  They spent their moments moving from place to place... hanging with the people.  I wonder if they saw any of the game or whether they are aware that their team won.

Judy and I came up with a final premise... since we're all One anyway, our win is the other teams' win, their loss is our loss.  This particular way is working for the GF community tonight : )  Happy Homecoming!

Ya, remember, can ya?  I'm not sure it's part of my favorite memories... but this is a different generation.  Maybe it's a different kinda life.  The homecoming dance...

We live in the middle of nowhere.  It's just true.  Perhaps having only 800 kids in high school bonds them more.  Or maybe, just maybe, the kids I know are a little bit different (stranger) than most (oh wait, that's just true, no doubts, hee hee hee).   I think we had six girls at the house getting ready, seven if you count that Rylie dressed here hours earlier because she was meeting people for dinner BEFORE, rather than going out with the insane ones after the dance (beware Denny's, it's a dozen for one am).

They glitter, you know.  Teenage girls glitter.  They do it without the sparkling, satiny, adorable, short dresses.  They do it without the makeup.  They do it even before the hours we spent with irons curling and straightening the hair.  Their hearts shine with such love for one another, such glory in the moment, in imeasurable joy of each moment of the experience.  What wonderful teachers I have!  I don't need the Beattles... I don't need a guru... I am surrounded by exactly what God is!

I am so honored to be in these lives, to witness their unfolding, to share in their experiences.  I can't imagine a gift that is more obvious in all the things God hands me. 

There is nothing that calls us to have gratitude more than the joyous people who surround us, those who are our world, who share their existences willingly and in a way that is so merged that we can't help but feel the Oneness that is God.  Thank you all for being that for me!  And thank you teenagery ones... 'cause you know I  love you more than anything, forever and always!

I'm not really going HERE again... well, maybe another day... BUT I want to be VERY clear what my point was a few blogs ago.  I hear it was not so obvious!

Short, sweet, to the point without a dance (see the other blog if you want that)... I meant to say that there is a level of love that can be reached (in sex) that most people will never experience.  All spiritual concept, people! 

I meant to say (or imply) that it would require some contact with the Infinite to get there... ergo, yes, that might mean meditating, together/apart/upside down/wherever in order to reach the connection with the Eternal, that could then also be experienced in other ways!

Now, I'm not saying there's a bribe here. I'm not saying there's a trade off in the human realm whatsoever.  I'm saying that it might be worth it for some people to adventure into a deeper level of themselves than they've searched for before...  and ya, sometimes people think "great sex" is incentive. 

But the secret is that I'm not talking about "great sex"... 'cause that isn't the half of it!  I'm talking about being love, being God, being connected beyond your wildest imagination... and adding that to the loving relationship.

We could all give it a shot.  It's not like there's anything to lose!

I was pretty tired last night.  Eric and I went to dinner at Confetti's after the Alchemy workshop, and he said he'd be my guest writer, so there'd be a blog for you "daily lovers of blogs" : )  That was very sweet of him, and I think it fell by the wayside because when I walked in the door, I realized that I had tie dye to rinse... and so did NOT go right to bed.  I did disappear early, and before blogging, but then, I don't think he has my password.

I asked what he'd write about... Zen, Zen and the Art of Fishing.  That makes sense.  It is his connection to the Eternal.  So this is where the conversation went... 

The fish call him.  He can hear them randomly at times, miles and miles away.  Eric will say, "there is a fish on the Wallace in "this particular hole" that I need to go catch."  The fish is there; he catches it.  Now that's LISTENING!

We talked about the other fish, the ones that might not be ready.  Sometimes Eric catches a fish illegally, like it gets snagged in the side, or the hook attaches incorrectly in the mouth, etc.  He does not keep those.  They have more to do.  They have something left to give the world.  They are not food yet.  That's a powerful lesson we can all apply in the universe... there is a time and a season...

Fishing is meditation.  There are a couple of ways that Eric can recenter his existence.  If he doesn't fish for long periods of time, he loses his center.  It seems like a solid dose of artful meditation, where he pulls the power of nature, the quiet of being alone, and the repetitive action together as one transformational experience.   Zen. 

Maybe he'll comment, and add what I've left out.  But maybe that was just enough...

I have "read" all of the Harry Potter books (listened to most of them as I deep cleaned the house actually, but "read" works).  I am acquainted with the depth of Merlin.  I love Terry Pratchett, and there are certainly wild wizards in the Disc World.

But what is real Alchemy?  I wanted to know.  A Gathering Grove hosted Robert Bartlett, the author of a couple of books on the topic, to do a workshop.  Robert IS an Alchemist. 

It's funny how that term brings mystery and perplexity to a topic so ancient.  Funny, and fitting.  Alchemy is just what I would have guessed.  It's another route to the Eternal, another pathway to "Enlightenment" or high spiritual development or whatever you want to call God realization.  It is the way of the "science" minded, the way of the spiritual scientist.

I loved that Robert didn't push the subject as such, but illuded to it.  It didn't really matter.  He could have been straight.  Anna (Shannon's friend), Eric and I made up three quarters of the class.  I don't think that the spiritual aspects would have scared any of us. 

What the lecture did for me is connect the dots.  Robert spoke of the Alchemy of ancient Egypt, the secrets that were passed only to the priests.  He talked about the journey of the knowledge through the ages.  Alchemy is about transformation, about alteration, about the capability of man to use the resources of the earth in a way that is controlled by capability, knowledge, and Oneness.  Can people turn lead into gold?  Of course they can.  Can anyone?  I doubt it.  I'm pretty dang sure that Alchemy is an enlightened path that some are called to follow.  Many become chemists, but never realize their potential because they don't venture to the spiritual side.

That's a lesson in itself.  Where are we "experts" in our world?  Have we opened that expertise to the higher self?  Have we embraced the spiritual avenues of our gifts? 

I love that Alchemy ties to the Kabala, to Ayuvedic healing, to spreading of the enlightened ones across the historical land.  I love that it's connected to times so ancient that Jesus was unborn.  I love that the chemistry of today is NOTHING in comparison, and that when the Alchemical practices are applied, the healing is magnified beyond human belief.  

I love that Alchemy is a mystery that is being reborn and rediscovered by the people of today, after the loss of time!  

I guess, for the most part, I wouldn't be accused of gathering overzealous clutter.  It was a habit well established in my home life as a child, so clearing it became a mandatory skill for survival (in order to avoid avalanche death).

Dad didn't clean.  Mom liked disorganized chaos... if was comforting to her.  This resulted in things like the refrigerator magnet quote, "if it walks out, let it go", being the absolute truth of the matter.  One time in recent years, I stopped by and wanted to write something or cut something or whatever, and there was not one open space on the eight foot by four foot breakfast bar, not even a little one.  If it was easy stuff to put away, that could have been handled quickly, but it wasn't.  It was stacks of unique papers and medicines and whatever you could think of, nearing the ceiling....  OK, that was exaggeration.  But I would say in all honestly that nothing was less than six inches in stack height.

So you see, I did honestly build the skill of sorting and organization for survival.  It was for my survival, but also the survival of my family group!  Mom needed me to balance her.  I needed her to balance me, but that's another story.  This isn't where I was going, but it is a life lesson to notice.  The people we are with, the ones that surround us, they are there for a reason.  Each of those individuals in the group are NEEDED for something, balance something, teach something, create something that make our lives what we are creating them to be.  Remember.

My clutter, on topic, is out of control.  It's not because I don't know how to declutter.  It's not because I don't want to undo it.  It's because I lack balance in my existence.  I don't find clutter to be on the priority list, and so it grows.  It's like laundry and cobwebs... left to their own devices they take over.

When do the stupid things have to rise to the top?  When do we have to set aside the powerful and meaningful things in life and just "clean the house"? 

My real answer:  Read a book to your kids, or yourself.  Hug your friends and family.  Spend time laughing and crying.  (And just try to avoid collecting the clutter to begin with.)

I'm feeling very worldly this week... like there are all of these new avenues and lanes that I'm detouring along, enjoying the new views of the old neighborhood : )  Sunday, Alchemy.  Today, earth and plant energy!

Yep, back at A Gathering Grove for another lecture... if you're local, you really should check 'em out!  (Everett, WA)  Today, Gary Cranston (Mountain Heart Center) gave us a peek into the novels that shed light on a different kind of life, one that is connected to Gaia herself, one that merges the energies of man with the energies of the earth for the greatest accomplishments of peace and harmony.  Awesome!  Powerful!

Anastasia lives in an area of Russia (does Russia still exist?)... and has never been a part of mechanized society.  She was raised in the forest, almost by the forest, living with her parents until they died.  Her grandfather and great grandfather remained alive to help the earth care for her.  She lives without a structure we would call a home, in true wilderness. 

Anastasia has messages to convey to us, about harmony, about living in unity with the planet.  She called an author in to write her story.  She is an enlightened being with much to say.... Ok, now you do your own research... 'cause I haven't read the books either!!!

There are many ways to live connected to our Source, and recognizing the power in that which surrounds us is one.  For the beginner, hey, I'd just say share a little gratitude!  Thank a tree for the air you breathe.  Hug your cat, and appreciate the intricacy of the patterns in the fur.  Note the grains of sand under your feet at the beach, and how they must work together to support your weight.  It's all good!

I think if we get a grip on that, maybe we could step out a little more... eat an organic apple once in a while, start a compost heap, maybe walk in the moonlight (ya, I hear you all, and NO, the cougars respect my space).  It doesn't have to be a merging of the soul with the earth, in massive upheaval of the lifestyle.  It can be little baby steps that make a difference.

Shannon and I hugged this tree last month in the middle of Seattle... uh, ya... a little weird.  No witnesses.  That could be beyond your breadth.  But sitting below it, noting it's beauty, being aware of the scent, and possibly perceiving something a little bit "tingly" that comes from the experience (that would be tree energy, hee hee hee) do the trick!

There are many paths.  Love for and connection with nature are certainly exuberant ones!  Enjoy.

One Halloween, we dressed Shante in this intricate fuzzy baby costume with a mane.  Nyasha, walking at least, had full bear regalia.  I had tiger ears and tail.  Eric's elaborate costume was a baseball cap with the words "Oh My" on its crown.  Most people didn't get it.  I think that might show how far they live from the yellow brick road.  I hope not!

I bought yet another journal yesterday.  I don't know how many I own, a lot.  I always think the next one will entice me to enter stuff, to actually document my... wow, document my what?  My feelings, the events of life, dreams maybe.  Are journals a space of collected illusion?  Is that where we dump the illusions in order to clear ourselves for the unveiling of reality?  I never really thought about it that way.

What's the difference between a journal and a blog?  That's what really was turning my thoughts this morning.  It doesn't take me effort to blog... moments at the computer, some fleeting thought about the relevant or irrelevant.  It all just pops out of my finger tips without much energy.  I usually do edit a little.  There might be energy there.  Sometimes, the blog changes from one day to the next.  I correct spelling errors. I even boldly change text here and there.  Who cares?  Only me.  I really write blogs talking to myself, as if I am the speaker and the listener (well, that's a little closer to true than most of us want to address).

I find myself interesting.  I like to read what I happen to say... and wonder at why I say it.  I like to look at myself as some strange museum display that needs to be contemplated.  Blogs are totally that!  They are the unwinding of the individual elements of self.

So what's in a journal.  I'll tell you what's in the words I hand write to myself, although you'll never read a page.  Almost as a rule, my illegible cursive brings the outpouring of frustration, confusion, and angst.  They are the words of desperation, or of sadness... the surrender to something else, the definition of "can I be weak".  Maybe I should journal more.  Surrender and admission of weakness are things I could increase in my existence.

I imagine if I had journaled a decade back, there would be stories of being wronged, names of people in my circle, gossip, self elevation.  But I'm only frustrated with myself these days.  In deep thought, there is only one thing to work on.  Self. 

Journaling is a form of prayer, a form of meditation.  It takes the words and gives them away to the Eternal, surrenders them, proves that I can be weak... black on white never lies. 

In one of the Harry Potter books, Tom Riddle's journal is what makes a shadow image of him real.  Our journals are our shadow image... the things to set aside so we can be the true manifestation of the Source.  The shadow dies when the journal is stabbed through with the basalisk's tooth.  Perhaps the shadow actually dies when the pen meets the paper.

Cool topic, eh?  Several of my friends are in this position... by choice, by chance, maybe other reasons.  I was going to do a little research and attack this sucker from a place of knowledge, but then decided to stick with the emotional angle.

When I was reading Autobiography of a Yogi, one of the easiest things to notice was the religious/cultural aspect of sex (who knows about today in India, maybe there is a difference).  Sex was viewed as a method of procreation, and secondarily as a temptation or distraction.  Religious people, in general, weren't hanging out in bed.  That's consistent with the religious dogma of India.  Pretty much, renunciation of anything human is considered highly spiritual... so ya, kiss the sex goodbye, but also any other physical indulgence in the world (chocolate?!  yep).  It's choice, of course, but in order to be closer to God, one has to "realize" that elements of humanity distance us.

I think this is one of the things that separates me most from that religious tradition.  I definitely have a body/mind affinity there, but perhaps a moral perplexity.  We are human, after all.  Being fully human and fully what God intends can be a conundrum of seeming opposites.

So what of celibacy?  Christine commented, "sex is like getting close to God without doing the work."   She sees that there is spiritual connection in long term, permanent relationships, and believes that marriage is the place for that to happen. 

Maybe she agrees with the Hindu perspective in one way, that the journey to God is clearer without the distraction.  I think the journey to anything is easier without distractions, but I get compulsive about stuff, and that may be the reason.

In an American marriage relationship, celibacy is not a normal option.  Someone is tortured by that choice.  Eric is at the other end of the house, outside of earshot, so I can't ask about making specific personal comments... hmmm.  Does profound religious/spiritual growth have any relationship to the sex drive or lack of one?  Maybe others have comments on that.

I haven't hit the obvious lives of celibacy, the monks, the nuns, the priests.  Obviously, there is a reason for whole hearted devotion to the Eternal.  But where is the balance? 

I think that, by chance or by choice, celibacy is something people can use to benefit other areas of focus in their lives.  Energy goes somewhere... and when it is saved for your hopes, dreams, goals, and spirituality, it can only assist in their manifestation.  It is not an area to mourn as a loss, but to redirect as a gain.  Have fun with that!

Can you remember being a teenager?  That was a really, really long time ago!  It makes me laugh to realize that those years occupy only half a decade.  They seem like half a lifetime, in memories, in angst, in growth.  When Eric talks about things that happened in High School, I tend to sing "Glory Days", and think of Al Bundy from Married with Children.  It seems almost psychotic to put so much value on so little time.  But people do.

I was never really sure, back then, if who I was was who I was or who I created myself to be.  That was closer to reality than I've come in most of time.  I remember wondering about the clothes I wore, the music I listened to, my peer group... wondering if they were "me", knowing that they weren't.  But I had no idea who I was, so I would try to stop philosophizing and just live with it, live the moments. 

I enjoy the teenagers in my life.  I would not trade places with them!

When I was a teenager, when I began being a teenager, I listened to the pop stuff, like American Top 40... in fact I think I actually listened to Casey whatever-his-name-was count 'em down on Saturday mornings.  That didn't last long.  Mic (my brother) wouldn't tolerate it.  He quickly added a repetoire of hard rock to my list, and AC-DC really caught me coming and going.  And so it worked.  Black leather was not my demeanor... but I was an eclectic mix with a Polyanna tendency to skirts and dresses and the absurd coordinate of a subtle black leather jacket.  Imagine this, can you?

My heart still beats in tune with "For Those About to Rock" and "Highway to Hell".  Nyasha caught the insanity, as I hadn't converted before pregnancy.  I never thought of that.  The information about in utero transformations was not as prevalent as today.  The minute the infant had a personal identity, she was listening to baby Bach... but it didn't matter.  I had already rocked her world : )

Music is life, life is music... so they say.  I notice that, no matter the genre, music is a human way to connect, to feel, to embrace all that there is at a level so powerful that it has to be the Eternal.  Now most of us can argue a little... most techno does not get me anywhere but stress-ville.  Yet, I know that it removes someone from pain somewhere.  That I can respect.

Today, you're far more likely to hear Tina Malia's "Silent Awakening", a Native American flute and drum combo, or some chant or other playing in the house... when I have control of the sound anyway.  Eric loves the Waitresses, Bowling with Soup, ya, and fringey junk.  Shante could not care less.  Nyasha is trendy, but not with her group, with herself.  She still hangs in hard rock territory, but the Bohemian Rhapsody and Enya are high on her list as well.  Weird.

Chelsea and Karolynne sang solos in last nights' choir concert.   There really is no definition for something like that.  Their hearts, their souls, seem to glow and resonate through the entire room.  It is something so powerful and beautiful.  They'll never know... never know how they touched the people in the room.  It's the inspiration of music... another road to the Divine.

Guest author... straight from the banks of the Wallace... and here's Eric:

  Fishing as meditation: first for Debby, one must remember that, hatchery fish are raised with the intention that they are caught, maybe that is why they have smaller under developed brains then the native version of the same fish... there is a lot of research to back that up.

I also would like to relate something I have experienced the last two years on the Wallace. On November 30 you are allowed to kill up to two Coho salmon a day, but on December 1 you are no longer allowed to kill them but are only allowed to keep steelhead. I have fished the same hole (place on the river) on both days and caught many more Coho on December 1st. Maybe their ego just thinks they will look cooler on the spawning grounds with a new pierced lip ring, or maybe there is a spiritual lesson to be learned fighting a losing battle against superior odds, that helps them latter in death (better than 99% of pacific salmon die after spawning). Or maybe they get something out of giving excitement and happiness to others. I don't know but somehow they seem to know when a certain day on a made up calendar has come and gone.

As for meditation, most people who fish do not catch many fish. Outdoor writers talk all the time about learning to feel the bite, how to read the water, knowing the habits of the fish you seek... things like that. But to actually catch fish I believe you must see them or at least see the life energy they give off.

There was a slide in the alchemy presentation that showed this very vividly to me. It was a color slide with 4 parts of a thing (animal, vegetable and mineral are all the same in alchemy) and in the center was a bright light. That is sometimes how I see the river, a green flowing area with dark and light spots. Places to catch and places to not go.

Meditation takes repetition; "focus on your breathing" is a common way to teach it. For me it is focus on your casting, over and over in the same section of river.  Feel each rock or wave as your line and lure contact them. "Become one with your bait."  You do not feel or see the fish bite.  You know that the bait has been bitten. Good days, when I know that I am the lure, I don't lose any gear. I see the branch or rock that I will hang up on before I get there, so I don't go there... and I catch fish. Bad days are when I can't relax, can't get in the zone. I lose a ton.

 I have always said some fish are not meant to be caught. I remember many of them.  Most recently a huge (17 lb or better) salmon was repeatedly jumping in the same spot of the river every few minutes.  The kid (24, recent college grad) fishing next to me was having an awful day, losing gear, getting frustrated, not experiencing life but battling it. After about the 30th jump, he asked if he could crowd closer to get a better angle on the fish, I said sure.  He's not my fish, or I would have hooked him by now. I always like to move around in the holes a bit anyway, where most people stick to their territory.

Anyway, he takes a deep breath, cracks his neck, loosens his shoulders and on his first cast in the new spot and he hooks the fish.  It runs and jumps, and he is having a blast when right at the end of the battle for no real reason, the hook pulls out, and the fish swims away. 10 minutes before the deep breath and he would have been angry, and most likely stopped fishing for the day. But two minutes after, the hook came out and he had a huge grin on his face, and said that made his day. And he was actually glad that he didn't get the fish because he really didn't know what he would do with more fish.  He had caught two the day before and being single they would last him a few more days.

~~~ Thanks for chiming in Eric... we needed your expertise!  Michele

Wow... I won't be blogging this week, or not much.  How weird is that?  Too many trips and details and junk like that.  It will almost certainly be distancing me from my perceptions, from my meditations.

That's a paradox.  One among many.  Today when I was driving, I noticed something (mentally) that you may have noticed as you've read along.  There is an amazing amount of paradox in spirituality, an amazing number of statements that seem totally opposite in my blogs, one to another.

Where's the tetralemma when I need it?  There is paradox, there is no paradox, there both is and is no paradox, there neither is paradox nor is no paradox... oh ya.  That's the way to send the synapses into chaos.

Specifically, I wrote about celibacy in one blog, and spiritual connection in sex in another two.  Hey, they're opposite people.  No one screamed?  No one blinked?  There have been other topics as well, and what I was pondering is this:

The doors that open into spirituality can also be walls that barrier someone out, and the opposite.  It becomes a total conundrum, a puzzle, a labyrinth with twists and turns and enless retracing of steps!

I think this will be the origin of the notion of faith... 

Consider that sex can be a wall, an addiction, a distraction that keeps a person living in ego or in guilt, as far away from her/his godself as imaginable.  Then look at the other side.  Sex can be an outpouring of love, a total connection in Oneness, a display of the Source in an undeniable way.

Keep expanding with this thought.  Knowledge is a certain pathway to potential and realization, can open all sorts of insights, can lead to awakening many positive spiritual avenues.  But, it can also be the source of negatives.  Some materials deter us from our travels.  Some people become arrogant and build ego, barriering the self from true enlightenment.

This is a disease that spreads into our every moment.  Eating pop corn could be viewed as being connected and enjoying the moments, connecting to the Source through abundance... or, it could go the other way, way too much, ignoring what you're doing, harming the earth through the types you might choose, on and on and on.

TV, do I need to go here?  I love Northern Exposure.  We watch movies on the DVD player.  But how often is television creating a distance between ourselves and being the outpouring of Universal love, or just the unfolding of self?

Paradox.  The apple is covered in toxic mold.  Or is that the mold that becomes penicillan?  The doors are walls and the walls are doors. 

We have to have faith in something bigger, something beyond ourselves to guide our "right actions".  We have to have faith that this moment is perfect as it is, regardless.  It takes a lot of noticing.  It takes a lot of watching, watching the self.  It's the paradox of enlightenment!

Back to Shakespeare!  "All the world's a stage,  And all the men and women merely players."  There is a dichotomy of thought swirling in my illusary brain today.

We make our own reality.  Most people that I know wouldn't argue that point.  But it does come to the deal that "life is a fantasy".  The cats at the shelter were particularly edgy yesterday... probably because today is the Black Cat Ball and they're wondering who to dance with : ).   It made for a very painful afternoon... socializing has it's pitfalls.  We were discussing some wounds incured, and I mentioned that a slash in my finger was causing a lot of pain.  Nyasha retorted, "pain is just heat."  It's my line.  It's true.  I forget and add emotion, fight it.  Then when I remember, I notice that pain is just a sensory barrage of what can be deciphered as, well, just heat.  So weird.

Life is just sensory barrage.  Or perhaps more like a body/mind/emotion/ego barrage.  We have so many choices.  All we have is choices.

It seems that we are the directors of the ultimate fantasy feature film.  We get to call the shots.  We pick the actors, change the circumstances, set the lighting.  We do it all.  And then we deny it.   Hmmm.  I don't live a life I would change much, not for the world of living... but many people I know think they would change a lot!  So???  But they don't. 

There are people who live on the beaches of Cabo San Lucas... basically "beach bums" who are spending their time enjoying the sun and the atmosphere about nine months out of the year.  We all have that choice.  We all have a million other choices, a billion other choices.  But we put ourselves into patterns we can't stand, and then we choose to loop them over and over.

Pick the people.  Pick the environment.  Pick the career.  Pick the emotions.  Pick the setting, and the lights, and the costumes, and the makeup.  The world is your stage, and you merely have to decide that is something different and make that be true.

I heard the ultimate argument pop into my head... terminal illness.  But then, my Mom was a perfect example of living a fantasy adventure, even then.  She chose how to live out her days, chose it distinctly, played it exactly. 

I guess my advice to myself, my advice to all the players on my stage, is just choose, and do it.  There is no whining in theater.  There is no waiting for the plot of the next movie before finishing the first.  If you die along the way, you get up before the next scene to be cast in another production.  No losses.  Just choose, then act. 

Turn the horror flick into the fantasy of all times.  Keep reminding me to do the same!

When I was in college (I didn't watch tv then either, but...), there was a commercial for a pizza place.  They had a little creature that was presumably hunger, and the catchy phrase was "Avoid the Noid".  I have no idea what a noid is.  The dictionary didn't help.

But over and over again, this comes to my mind in association with "filling the void".  The void definitely plays in the lives of every human being that I connect with, dominantly, like a black hole that will suck us all in.

Actually I like that.  Ultimately, perhaps theoretically, I think that everything that any of us is ever "seeking" is actually God.  So if that black hole sucks us in, who am to complain? 

It doesn't happen fast enough.  That's my impatience speaking, because obviously the argument with anything Eternal is that it is always perfectly exact, perfectly Divine, perfectly implemented... perfectly, frustratingly, voidfully ssssllllllllloooooowwww : )

My emotions get the best of me.  I can't stand another second in this particular space.  Obviously I can.  But that's how it feels.  I'm facing the perceived distance from the Source directly (in combination with the avenues where I face it indirectly).

Many people feel the need for that connection too, yet are unaware that they are filling the void (avoid the noid) with countless other things.  Sex, addiction, food, relationships, shopping, achievement, illness... Go ahead, give it a shot! I certainly have and do.  But it doesn't help, does it?  Something is still missing. Something will always be missing.

It is the opening that we have to realize our true selves, to reach for the stars, to become One with all of existence.  When you notice a gap, notice that.  When you long for something, take a look at the reality of it.  Do you feel differently when you get it, accomplish it?  Or does the longing just shift to something more?

I'm sad to say that there is no cure.  You can't gather things into this void and make any progress.  This hole is only filled by getting rid of stuff.  You have to let go of ego, step away from emotions, pour love endlessly outward.  Maybe the truth is that we become the Void ourselves.  Rather than being a vacuum, we become the Ultimate Void. 

Knowing, and perceiving... there's a world of difference, a universe of difference, an infinite longing filled distance.