Monday, February 28, 2005
Sunday, February 27, 2005
The forest of my being
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Twisted, resurrected and grateful
Today I awoke to a new day. Shut off a couple lights and managed to make it into Julies yoga flow class. It was pretty grueling but I managed to tough it out. I've been doing alot of yin yoga but now I realize that I have to mix it up. Eventually, the sense of well being I experince doing yoga began to wash over me and I remembered some things that help keep me happy. The thyroid gland stimulates the heart when we smile. When we frown, we block the flow of energy to the heart. The heart is a brain/organ/pump which regulates the cerebral cortex, lymbic system (emotions) and immune system. "So smile, lighten up" I tell myself. While in the final pose, corpse. Julie said something like: Our worst fear is that we are super powerful gorgeous beings. Do not shrink and dim your light because you are afraid that others will not like it. I left her class recharged. I thanked her for the wonderful class and Billy for providing awsome live music. Tonight, I will pedrform along side him with the didj. The key that I remember after all this is to remain grateful.
Friday, February 25, 2005
ALA President bashes blogging
The incoming president of the American Library Association, Michael Gorman, bashed the heck out of us bloggers. I responded with this email:
Dear Mr. Gorman,
After reading your blog bashing article I sit amazed that you are the
president of such a venerable organization. I can only guess that you
wrote it in haste and did not share it with anyone for constructive
criticism. I have a question. How can you treat bloggers as a single
entity? There are over 6 million blogs. To me this is an example of
extremely lazy thinking. The word of the day: prejudice. I've been
blogging since early January of this year. Yes, one must sift thru
alot of fertilizer, but there is gold in this world. I still do not
pretend to completely understand it but I know that it is not easily
classifiable. You are in a state of denial. Mark Twain was the pen
name for Samuel Clemens. You might try reading him some time. Blogging
is the new "wild west" in the web and clearly mirrors the neural web
in our brains. It is a tidal wave of expressed freedom threatening to
drown your repressed ideas. Let them go, surrender, and join the
Later on in the day I found a great web site which I sent to Mr. Gorman:
The monkeysphere concept helps me understand the ALA president. I have not gotten a response and actually do not expect one. I doubt he read it. My feeling is he was probably overwhelmed by a blogger backlash.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
The core of the mandala
The amazing consequence of our interaction was that we both improved. I think I received more than Shawn even though my total concern was how to help him develope self esteem, coping strategies and a sense of well being. I finally became less self absorbed. I guess this opened up the dormant potentials inside myself. I remember how foreign nurturing others and myself had been before this experience. I am convinced that this deep caring for another human is the core of the mandala which supported the metamorphisis which I experienced.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Fear and self loathing in Colorado
My distant impression of the recently deceased was that he was misanthropic and distrustful. He was always shooting his gun and it was generally rumorred that he liked to shoot tv's in his back yard. Before he offed himself, he'd been in some pain from breaking his leg and injuring his hip. I've noticed that when older folks injure themselves there's a major change in there outlook on life. It seems like the ability to find that motivation, that fire, that joy gets weaker when our mobility is compromised. My friend Skip's understanding increased when I relayed his leg and hip trouble but he still had this critique "Why'd he have to make such a gruesome mess for his family to clean up? He could have just gone out into the woods." I thought this sentiment had some weight.
DR. Cristopher Hyatt, a master in the art of introspection, had an interesting view on suicide. Paraphrased: When someone has fantasies about suicide they always picture the funeral with all the significant folks in their life racked with guilt and pain.
It seems to me that suicide is an attempt to punish others. I suspect that Hunter was trying to punish his family and the world. Who knows? I also suspect that Hunter had a back log of stuff that he never delt with. He hid from it thru booze. His distrust of others was mirrored within. I know there are exceptions but they prove the rule.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Icarus breathes underwater
I had a crazy moment 40 days before the New year on top of a mountain 20 miles from the nearest road. I was on my Stumpjumper with 2 other mountainbikers. We'd been biking for a couple hours thru a foot of snow and the sun had set. My gloves were totally inadequate and my fingers were freezing and I was freaking. I just hit a point where I flipped and started yelling, screaming and cursing. Hand stuck on the panic button. My self loathing had found its way to the surface and exploded. This anger was an expression of self hatred. I cursed myself repeatedly. I can remember the look of shock and bewilderment on one of the guys faces. He was a friend where as the other guy turned his back - I'd just ridden with him a few times. After a few minutes of my freakshow my friend said "Hey dude, we're going, its cold and late." With that he handed me his gloves and they both began to descend. I somehow pulled my self together and started down the icy mountain. After 20 minutes I returned his gloves. I began to warm up and managed to keep from falling or crashing. When we hit the mainroad to town we were still 5 miles from our homes. I remember racing ahead on the wet black roads while traffic flew passed with bright head lights. I lost a friend that night. I hope he's well. A gentle, sweet, cool guy.
The consequence of my going nuclear led me to accelerate my breathing exercise experiments. Spiritual practices started 5AM every morning, 5 Tibetans, tai-chi, didjeridoo and singing. I never missed a day. The discipline was great but the foundation of my practice was anger. This would be my downfall. But even though this Icarus crashed into the sea and sunk. He/I learned how to breathe underwater and rebuild his/my wings.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Hoop shots and swollen rivers
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Stay active and surf the waves that come
Saturday, February 19, 2005
India House in the summer
Friday, February 18, 2005
Hey God, watch where your pointing that flash bulb!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Mushka Water screening
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Monday, February 14, 2005
Carnivals and carnivores
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The dreamtime continues
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Friday, February 11, 2005
Welocome to New Orleans
Thursday, February 10, 2005
The steering of the public
Sail around the world and your problems disappear
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
The quest for a didj down under Part I
We arrived in Byron Bay in the morning and I could see a bunch of generation x types awaiting, apparently for us. As I got off the bus I realized that they all represented various hostels and bed and breakfasts. Quickly, a cute girl around 20, long dark hair, began talking to me and before I knew it I was in the back of a Holden, heading for The Arts Factory. It was only a mile or 2 away. My disconnection and slight feelings of alienation continued but I still was able to appreciate how cool this place was. I decided to stay in my tent initially and then the rain started to fall. It rained for 3 days and I just slept and slept. On the third day, I awoke to see the clouds rolling back like curtains revealing a beautiful sun. The last moments of a dream lingered: A woman, earth goddess-like, whispering in to my ear: It's all right, everything is perfect. From that moment onward, a switch had been flicked and I felt connected. I moved into the one of the tee-pees and began to meet and connect with other folks.
One day later, an Austrian guy, about a year older that me entered the tent. His name was Manny. We became good friends quickly. Much happened in Byron Bay. I surfed and met amazing people like Zac from Tasmania. I connected with one beautiful blonde girl from I forget where and one night we kissed under the sparkling stars after a night spent with some Hari Krishnas.
Manny enters the tent, its about 16 days later, I have been in Byron Bay for about 3 weeks. He says he has a ride to Harvey Bay and that it leaves in an hour "Do you want to go?" The rest of the plan unfolds: We are heading to Frazier Island.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
It has happened sooner than you expected. The reality show you have been waiting for. But... damn! those high and mighty Brits beat us to it. Damn! Soon they will be torturing voulunteers for all to see on TV in Great Britain. I know how much you want to be one of the torturers Mr. Rumandcokesfield but please, the country needs you. I'm sorry, we just cannot accept your resignation at this time. Who knows, maybe the producers of the show will allow you to make a cameo appearance. I'm sure they'd love to have your input on some techniques. Lets face it Rummy, your kind of an artist when it comes to torturing people. I still see new photos that our military employees took of themselves using your techniques against the Iraqis who might be getting in the way of our oil agenda. Hey, maybe we can start our own show in Iraq. Yeah! it could help offset the high cost of helicopters and planes and stuff. I'm sure it would be a hit like American Idol. Think about it, all of those Iraqis being tortured are an asset, an asset like a royal flush. So lets show our hand Rummy. Send in some of those new school Mtv music videographers and create a hit. Once the American public gets hooked on the torture show then we can really drag this war on indefinitely. We can call the show Torture Theatre.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Learn from the best
Secretly, you hate making decisions. The word freedom is used in place of slavery continuously. This is what you love: slavery. Admit it. Trust me. Admit it. OK, good. Now where going somewhere. I cannot make all your decisions for you. Just the important ones will have to suffice as my time is quite in demand for this kind of thing.
Tonite's topic is your project for the next year or so. You will start to offer classes for people. You will teach them how to be good robots. So, the first thing you do, is create a simple flyer to advertise your class. It will say something like: Attention, anybody who wants to be a robot can come to my class. Learn from the best. I'll teach you to be obediant, subserviant, docile and conservative. I can teach you how to surrender your will effortlessly. Its as easy as putting your foot on the brake. All you have to do is bring a pencil, some paper and a hundred bucks. Now go to to Staples or Letter Lobby or whatever. Run off about 200 copies and paste them all over town.
Good job, come back tomorrow and I'll fill in some more blanks.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Yes, I am your liberator
How do you feel? Like you have busted out of a preordained life where nothing new or exciting can happen? Like a cow that has jumped over the moon instead being milked by some old crusty farmer and jacked up with antibiotics and hormones for the rest of your life? Or like a little yelping dog whose bladder feels like its gonna burst because he only gets walked once a day by some senile old lady who calls you snookums?
Your welcome. Yes, I am your liberator. Thank you. But, I have only just begun... Find a pretty big city on the map that isn't too far away. Drive there. Take your new toys with you. As you cruise around various random streets, talk into your microphone. Say things like: "Stay in your house, watch tv, eat fast food, use deoderant or else you won't have any friends." Your voice should be friendly. Have a smile on your face. Kind of like a game show announcer. Good, you see, if you're having fun, then so will your audience. Some other things you can say: "Lock your doors, the streets are not safe, stock up on TP, wash your hands after flushing the toilet, drink coffee, stay in school, support the military, save the flys."
Nice work. You're breaking out of your shell and your helping to make the world more interesting. Does it feel like a haze is fading away? A haze you did not even know was there? Well, now you do. If you don't want it to come back, you better keep tuning in here a couple times a day. I never know when I'll get a flash of insight to help liberate you and the sooner the better. Have a great day.
Mini vacation at Mammoth Mountain
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Travel slowly thru time
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
100% slacker perfection
I just visited Trish. She's still at her previous residence. Cloie, her dog, had just been washed but she still smelled like a dead rat. I used laundry detergent to wash my hands after caressing her face. Robert B, her landlord happened to stop by in his little silver BMW. He was wearing a slick business suit and sunglasses as he walked around his rental property. He then began to grill Trish on the various miscelaneous items littering his property.
"What are you doing with the stove, Trish"
"What about the fridge?"
"What are you doing with your car?" (Trish's beamer had a broken passenger window and sat on flat tires for the past year)
Trish answers these questions with surprising adroitness. I am impressed with her ability to maintain decorum and yet still talk around each question without actually anwering any of them. Robert's a laywer so this conversation might have had some extra juice for him. Just before I sped off on my motorcycle, I could hear the strained tone of frustration creeping into Robert's voice as he realized there was no definite end in sight.
"This is not acceptable." Robert said looking down.