Reasons for the Liking


“Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself…It’s a self-exploratory operation that is endless. An exorcism of not necessarily his demon, but of his divine discontent.”  ~ Harper Lee

“Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.” ~ Tennessee Williams

“Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets. Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars. Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world. And never forget that writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things–childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves–that go on slipping , like sand, through our fingers.”  ~ Salman Rushdie

Without going into details I will simply say that I had a nice post going just a few minutes ago and I lost it. No record of a saved draft in my blog’s admin logs. I got very angry, and now I don’t feel much like writing at all. I’m gonna go with that feeling. There are days when I berate myself for feeling I must write a blog post every friggin day. I do it because I like to, and that entails multiple reasons for the liking. And it gives, brings, whatever, a sweet feeling. I don’t know what made me a writer. I seem to have been born with it; must have been about nine years old when I first began putting stuff down on paper. Yeh, it feels good to resume work on the novel, although the effort there still stirs up my inner critic, my conscience, what ever ya wanna call it. But a slow start is still a start, and feeling guilty about the slowness does no worldly good. It is gonna be great fun to write the novel, if the beginnings are any indication. Even if few people ever read it. It’s just fun. That’s all.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Rationality and Spackled Imagination


“If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” ~ E. B. White

“Everywhere I go I’m asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don’t stifle enough of them. There’s many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.” ~ Flannery O’Connor

“Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days.”  ~ Flannery O’Connor

It’s another morning frittered away in the quote search. I found some good ones though. A cloud cover has slipped in vaguely from the west since 3 AM. Before, that the sky was crystal clear, and the stars were bright as well, cast there to spackle gaps in my imagination. I haven’t been using my imagination in a reasonable way lately. That’s a good thing. Rationality can get in the way of imagination. I use rationality to pull myself out of excessive imagination, or that which has curdled. But rationality can’t get me back in to my imagination. Rationality is a one way street. As well it should be. Today is a workday. The task there is to dutifully perform my job, but I like to put a shot or two of imagination in the mix as well. Just in case a beautiful woman comes to purchase a wrench or something. The thing about beautiful women, in my case, in my job, is that my imagination gets sparked in a way that can happen no other way. I think this is natural. Romantic love has no mechanism. At times it seems to be applied imagination at work. I’m not going to knot my brain up by trying to explain it further. Not today. Today I would prefer to go with the flow. Ummmm . . . I think it might be more practical to be the flow. If you just go with the flow you miss out on the Unity. The integrative fire sputters rather than burns, when you make your moves instead of receiving the, I don’t know, but I hope to flow some today. Romantic love does much better in flow than it does any other way. I’m not saying that I have this form of love. I’m just sayin . . . oh, never mind. I think I’ll mosey on into the day at this point.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



Hope and Time Distortion


“The highest activity a human being can attain is learning for understanding, because to understand is to be free.” ~ Baruch Spinoza

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” ~ Clare Booth Luce

“The real question of life after death isn’t whether or not it exists, but even if it does what problem this really solves.”  ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

“There are two ways to slide easily through life: to believe everything or to doubt everything; both ways save us from thinking.” ~ Alfred Korzybski 

Quiet morning here. Cold. Soft. Coffee’s all gone and the cat is asleep on the bed, so my lap is free. There are really no words to describe what I am feeling today. Yesterday I was talking about Jump Time, a sudden evolutionary leap in human consciousness. I do indeed think the conditions are right at this time in history. It is an optimistic gesture that arises . . . well, let’s just say that I forget sometimes. But I dream, and lately I have begun to remember snippets, but mostly feelings. Someday I hope to wake up to find the new world here and kindly waiting for me to get my ass out of bed and jump in, or to wake up to find that I have fallen in love. Ummmm, still waiting on those. No hurry, I suppose. But . . . today is a work day. I think I need it. Days off have been running quite long. Some kind of time distortion that I reckon arises from opening up to the world without . . . geez, I have no idea. I’ll just do my best to make it a hopeful day, a good day. I think that is what I am trying to say. There, I said it.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Now is the Time


from “Paracelsus”

At times I almost dream
I too have spent a life the sages’ way,
And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance
I perished in an arrogant self-reliance
Ages ago; and in that act a prayer
For one more chance went up so earnest, so
Instinct with better light let in by death,
That life was blotted out — not so completely
But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,
Dim memories, as now, when once more seems
The goal in sight again.”  ~ Robert Browning

“I used to be self conscious about my height, but then I thought, fuck that, I’m Harry Potter.”  ~ Daniel Radcliff, a.k.a. Harry Potter

The Robert Browning quote is me to a ‘T’ in regards to the NDE, or near death experience. Some may – just may – say I harp on that topic here at EyeYotee blog. Well, it is hard to explain how profound such a journey is, except to say dude it’s really big, dude. It commandeered to role of being the seminal moment of my life, a position originally inhabited by my birth. Hey, did I mention that I was not born under the influence of ether, as so many were, I was under the influence of sodium pentothal. They call the drug truth serum. I hope so. Maybe it gave me a jump start on the Warrior’s Path, on the Hero’s Journey. It’s a bold fantasy to say so, but I ask that you forgive me the folly I just cast forth in words. There is something to it, I tell you. I look back now and I see that I stepped upon the path and endeavored to walk forth upon it much earlier than the NDE. I was strangely, intuitively prepared for the NDE journey. So said the psychic medium who wrote about me in her book. From my perspective, when the nexus point of Spiritual emergence occurs, when the NDE occurs, it lays out a path through time that was not there before, throughout a whole life, up until the present, then proceeding onward into the vast web of probability and potentiality; into the future, my friend. As for now, dawn is breaking and it has come time to feed the cat, then to inject her with insulin. In today’s post I played with the words; and crafted the application of them. What I briefly talked about here stems from some thoughts I have had recently about “the Jump Time”, a term created by Jean Houston. I am beginning to feel a rumbling undercurrent in today’s national crisis. I’m wondering how, if, whatever, I can shift my attention into the great noetic dream of a better future and a sudden quantum leap into expanded consciousness. That’s what Jump Time is. It’s worth a try, I suppose. Now is the Time.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



The Winking Words


“October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or shutting a book, did not end the tale. Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: “It is simply a matter,” he explained to April, “of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.”  ~ Neil Gaiman

“I think that to one in sympathy with nature, each season, in turn, seems the loveliest.”  ~ Mark Twain

A morning of few words. Both time and a mood make it so. It has been a long two days. That the first feast of the Winter holiday season arrived has something to do with it, for sure. It’s a frenzy. Get it? I’m in retail. No praise. No blame. People get worked up as the season arrives, and . . . sigh. I am writing here as if some relativistic critic sits waiting to pounce upon any mildly egoic statement I might make. Pounce away, good buddy. It’s not about me. I know that. Truth is that this phase of the yearly cycle of life kinda sorta harmonizes with the personal phase in my life. I await the snow and the cessation of these deceptive days in which Autumn would be Spring. Day after tedious day the comment of the day is that it is indeed a crisp, temperate day. Again and again. There’s a sameness to it that for some odd reason reminds me of a South Florida postcard. But what I want for myself is a physical stage set by Nature, to facilitate a cozy phase of intentional healing, of cherished solitude, of general sighs, and a chair, and a cat – until the season passes. I’ve got all three, and I know how to use them. So, I wait. Should be a lovely day today. No true discontent beyond the winking words of this scribe. I can wait.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Arc of the Story


“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.” ~ Erica Jong

“The dreamer is a distinguished operatic artist, and, like all who have elected to follow, not the safely marked general highways of the day, but the adventure of the special, dimly audible call that comes to those whose ears are open within as well as without”  ~ Joseph Campbell

“Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I’ve only found sorrow.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver

“To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story”. Wow, great sentence there. I have long found that living in the story of my life is a good place to be. Even when I am stuck, like I have been since late March of 2012. That’s a long time to be stuck, right? I mean how much time do I actually have, how many years? It matters not. One thing about this stuckness is that even though my story seems to have ground to a halt it really just slipped out of my conscious awareness. Looking back I can see the story line, the arc, whatever. So what if it doesn’t look pretty or wise? That’s not the friggin point. This way of looking at life came to me with the near death experience (NDE) back in 1984. I was working on a novel when the accident happened. The trauma changed the story in the manuscript considerably. I went on to complete the novel. It was a few years later that I came across the work of Joseph Campbell, and the mythopoeic hero’s journey as seen through the original Star Wars films. It gave me pause to look back at what had happened to me. When I began to do so it was a huge WTF moment. An NDE has a powerful tone not unlike a shamanic initiation/transformation. When it happened to me it could well have been a bright and shining hero’s journey just begun (Eben Alexander and Anita Moorjani are two great examples of that). But mine turned out to be slanted toward the dark side. Since the revelation sparked by Campbell’s work I have had to struggle to glean the arc of my story in some more proactive and positive way. Turns out that struggle may not have been the best way. That’s why I am sometimes so snarky toward the positive thinking movement. This is getting hard for me to explain here, and I haven’t much time to do so anyway. Life is full of choices. To say that I made a choice at the time if the accident is pretty much of an academic approach. Something that large – I died and came back to life – is about way more than the choice I may or may not have made at the time. Listen, what got me on this tack this morning was a conversation over dinner last evening. I was invited to join three friends for dinner at the Taos Inn. There were two of us men and two women. For a while the women fell into their own conversation, and I found myself in a rich conversation with a fellow writer. That’s where all of this is coming from this morning. The conversation and the context were sumptuous for me. Fine dinner at a classy restaurant with three people who are way more mainstream cultured than I am. They were all dressed nicely and I had on a black WalMart sweatshirt. But what was so profound for me was that I could participate as a writer, there in a public place in front of God and everybody, in a valid conversation. I’m not used to that. It felt good, and it allowed me to regain compassion for the immature part of me that withholds earned confidence to the point where I seem to have been stuck for five years now. My friend and I talked about the arc of a story, and I explained how I usually don’t see the arc until later in the story, maybe  . . . oh, never mind. Geez and boy howdy of course I can do stuff like that. I have been writing every day for years now. This may all sound like I have a very low opinion of myself. Au contraire, mon ami. I just forget at times, sometimes for a long time. But, alas, I am at this time out of time so it’s time to hit the shower so I can make it to work on time. I am pretty much sure I have the day off, but there is a little niggle of doubt that is enough to get me to go down into Taos anyway, just in case my confidence is wrong. If it turns out I do indeed have the day off I can treat myself to breakfast at the Taos Diner. I don’t get out enough, don’tcha know.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Broad and High on the Scale


“One must be a sea, to receive a polluted stream without becoming impure.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

“The pursuit and preservation of purity can drive prejudice and hate. Many crimes against humanity have been committed in its name. Purity is best applied to water.”  ~ Jamie Le Fay

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Happy Thanksgiving.

This will be brief; been a difficult morning, though not in a dramatic way. I lost a l lot of time that would . . . well, it was time to write this post but it was stolen by something else that was not near as much fun. C’est la vie, non? So, how’s my gratitude this morning. Broad and high on the scale. I hope yours in much the same.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Waking to Certain Knowledge


“Let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.” ~ Starhawk

“Cursing and healing. Left Hand path and Right Hand path. Black and White. Desiring and Repelling. They are all part of the same circle. All interlocking forms of spiritual, magickal and transformational work. Human energies in the spiritual, coming into the material world through perfectly natural means.”   ~ Dacha Avelin 

“Some of the best advice you will ever hear will come from the forest.”  ~ Dacha Avelin

The clock runs fast, and I wish it wouldn’t. It’s not that I don’t want to go to work. I do. I dunno. Whatever. The important facts here: Rosie the cat is on my lap and the second cup of coffee is good. Nuff said. Now . . . moving forward . . . these are the darkest days, as a nation, I can remember. And that is in spite of Nixon and all of that mess. It is disturbing. I could write for hours about it. Some of that writing would be cogent and some not. That’s just how it is. I am totally astonished at the moral rot that is starting to ooze to the surface on the Right wing. And I don’t want to die a serf. As – I think it was – Donald Trump said, there’s something rotten in Denmark. Yuck. I’m going to have to shift into Lightworker mode, I suppose. Speaking of that, someone was in my dreams last night. Someone with ill intent. I woke up with certain knowledge. Such stuff is possible, do not doubt it. I’ve noted before here that what pisses me off about troubled and troubling people entering my dreams is that it indicates that they don’t have good dreams of their own so they come to darken mine instead. This is a profound statement. Try applying the statement to everyday waking life. It’s not so different. I’ve put up with folks witchin’ on me before. I can defend myself, and if that is inadequate I can call for backup. I got me some good backup. No worries. The cat’s got my back too. She’s a force to reckon with. Well, I admit I am distracted this morning. I’m looking forward to a good day at work, even if I have to make it up. There is a serious disturbance in the Force these days. Just to backtrack, and then I’m going to get ready for work – I actually don’t mind if someone is in my dreams if they have shining eyes and a penetrating smile. Yeh, right. Dream on, dude. I plan on it. And if plans don’t come through for me I’ll do it anyway.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Hypervigilence and M. C. Escher


“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ~ Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?”  ~ John Keats

“Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, leave no path untaken.” ~ Neil Gaiman

“There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.”  ~ Erma Bombeck

It’s been hard getting to writing this post. I’ve been up most of the night with some gut pain stronger than I have felt in decades. It is easing now, toward dawn. So, what’s up with that? It’s messed up. For some reason the pain reminded me of the hypervigilence I live with most of the time: unfounded and unbridled. No, wait . . . I have learned to rein it in. I was exaggerating. My neurosurgeon, the cool guy who fused two cervical vertebrae, with the help of a nurse practitioner who was surgery certified, told me that I am hyperreactive, and boy howdy am I ever! My reflexes are a bit disturbing, but they give tangible benefits, so bearing the speed is not so bad. I wish I had time to write about Koko the teenaged ginger cat, but the upshot of the story is that I saved my boss’s parakeet by grabbing the poor cat, mid-air, around the ribcage. The bird was atop my head. The look on Koko’s face, I will never forget; he was like all dude. How’d you do that dude? Anyway . . . hypervigilence is one form of expression of PTSD. When the hypervigilence runs high for too long it’ll knot up your guts as if M. C. Escher himself was your gastroenterologist. Bingo! I have a dinner date with friends on Thanksgiving, and for reasons I will not share here I am in a pretty mucky trepidation flow. Poor me, right? No worries. Dinner will be fun. One must push through these mucky spaces if any kind of healing is to be accomplished.

Today’s opening photo is of Sunday’s sunrise. It was a doozy. Today’s has yet to happen, but I will go out to witness it. But first a shower. Hot water eases the pain of hypervigilence. That is why I linger in the shower for longer than I should. Then I will push my way out the door and into Taos for my day at work.

“Sunday sunrise shining through my window pane
Chasing away my cares with all the pouring rain
Sunday sunrise unfolding like a smile
Making me feel like a new born baby child.” ~ Anne Murray (“Sunday Sunrise”, performed by the amazing B. J. Thomas)

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Listening Non-judgementally to a Demon


“The search for Nirvana, like the search for Utopia or the end of history or the classless society, is ultimately a futile and dangerous one. It involves, if it does not necessitate, the sleep of reason. There is no escape from anxiety and struggle.”  ~  Christopher Hitchens

“We live only a few conscious decades, and we fret ourselves enough for several lifetimes.”   ~  Christopher Hitchens

“But attempts to evade anxiety are not only doomed to failure. In running from anxiety you lose your most precious opportunities for the emergence of yourself, and for your education as a human being.”  ~  Rollo May

Another deep cold morning, 12º. That, and it’s laundry day. Both are wielding comfort for me. Yesterday was pretty much of a lost day, unless you take into account the sleep I got and the overall deep tone of relaxation that permeated the day. It was like that “I just don’t care” mood that is an effect of the clinical depression I live with, except I did it on purpose. Lucky me. I took a clinical mood, dressed it up, and pulled off an actual accomplishment, which in essence was simply taking care of myself. And that is the whole point. Pretty cerebral approach, right? Nah, not really. This is the writer reporting on an action, and that only happens in retrospect. Sigh. I should take better care of myself, and part of that will end up being that I do it without being surprised, or having to make note of it when it happens. That ain’t happening anytime soon, I reckon, but I’ll give it time. Speaking of time, right before bed yesterday evening I read that Charles Manson died. Until he died I had never considered how much his atrocities shaped times back then. I’m not knowledgeable enough to go into depth about it, but the effect at the time was powerful. Another thing I read was the reappearance of the conspiracy theory that claims the Apollo moon landing was faked. That landing was another shaping agent of the times. The two events happened only three weeks apart, the landing coming first. A flight to the heavens and a man from the depths of hell. Wow. Three weeks. I should mention here that I don’t believe in heaven and hell except as elements of consciousness made vocal. As John Lennon put it: “No hell below us, above us only sky”. Kinda like that. So, does no hell mean no demonic energy exists? Nope. I’ve only encountered demonic energy, of which I was certain, once. A friend had asked me to see if I could help the man. So I went to the guy to talk. Dude said he had been in prison with Manson, that he knew the guy, and that his exposure to Manson had infected him with evil. The emanations from that guy were palpable. Friggin scary stuff, snaky tongue and all! But I felt calm as I listened with a caring ear. I felt protected by some spirit and likely I was. All told it seemed to help the guy to have someone listen to his story non-judgementally. Did I help the guy on a long term basis? I have no way of knowing that. He could have gone on to commit an atrocity of his own, but I seriously doubt it. So, that was my brush with evil. I think evil can exist without a hell, or a devil. Just sayin’. It is something that . . . oh, never mind. It’s about sunrise so I’m going out to have a look, regardless of the cold. 

An inspiring sunrise for us all; except those who sleep late. I know I was inspired, and I can take that to the laundromat with me . . . but not to the bank, as they say.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.