Lounging Atop a Goofy Mood

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“If you ever start taking things too seriously, just remember that we are talking monkeys on an organic spaceship flying through the universe.” ~ Joe Rogan

“We admit that we are like apes, but we seldom realize that we are apes.” ~ Richard Dawkins

“Has joy any survival value in the operations of evolution? I suspect that it does; I suspect that the morose and fearful are doomed to quick extinction. Where there is no joy there can be no courage; and without courage all other virtues are useless. Therefore the frogs, the toads, keep on singing even though we know, if they don’t, that the sound of their uproar must surely be luring all the snakes and ring-tail cats and kit foxes and coyotes and great horned owls toward the scene of their happiness.” ~ Edward Abbey

Another groggy morning is at hand. Am I the only one who’s hibernation instinct kicks in mid-Summer? But no worries. It’s working pretty good this way. At least I get enough sleep, right? As for today’s quotes, when I began the initial quote search I had no idea why I picked the topic of evolution as a guideline. But it soon became clear that it is evolution of consciousness that is poking at me. I don’t know, I may be a throwback. About a year ago I was chastised by two young adults because I was combing my hair. One of them said to me, upon seeing my bemusement, “That’s like so 70s”. I had no idea. It’s out of vogue and I still do it; I mean, it’s always been about the hair. It seems I may not have evolved. Why do they still make combs.? Just sayin’. So, here I am, lounging atop a goofy mood, and ready to start getting primed for the workday. I think I’ll just drop expectations and results-oriented projection. It’s just not me. Yeh, whatever. The day feels like a good one, and I suspect that I will be playfully grumpy today, kinda like Eeyore on Indica. Or Tigger on Adderall. Or Piglet, who is . . . . oh, never mind.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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Without an Exclamation Point

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“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe

“All I want to convey to anyone who is suffering while they’re young is that sometimes you get a reprieve when you’re older. Maybe it’s just your perception that changes, but somehow it eases up, because life ebbs and flows. When you’re ebbing, maybe you’re strengthening your perspective of the world. And when you’re flowing, maybe you can use everything to create, to write, to sing, act, and eventually stand taller and see farther.” ~ Cyndi Lauper

“We can never know more than the mind can assimilate and process, nor can we discuss any aspect of the world for which there is no language.” ~ Padma Viswanathan

There’s gotta be a reason for all this, right? Not. There is not a reason for everything. Like there is no reason for me not being a philosopher; it just happened. I jest. You know that, right? I coulda done the work, sure, but that failed probability looks more like an extreme, expensive luxury than anything else, at this point. So, what reason was I looking for, thinking of anyway? Hypocrisy. I promise to knock off this political commentary as soon as I proffer my point. The point is that, it seems to me, that Right Wing politics has become rife with hypocrisy. So what have they done about this? They weaponized it. The Right has, instead of explaining, or at least offering up a compromise, turned hypocrisy into a flash grenade. Someone points out the hypocrisy of some Rightie dude and they all go “BANG!! The president is great! Gotcha! Fake news!”, then they tell you to shut the fuck up because Jesus and stuff. I admit to speaking the name Jesus at least once a day. No, he’s not my savior. Who actually told you that? I speak his name when I read some truly stunning proclamation or defense from some obviously deeply troubled fellow human, and come to find out the proclamation is being prepared to become Republican policy. I read stuff like this and I’m like “Oh, Jesus”. Out of exasperation, I never use an exclamation point at times such as these. It is not merited. They gave up the element of surprise long ago. Dammit. What’s wrong with these people anyway? Whatever.


It’s about straight up sunrise. I’m not going out to look . . . oh wait, maybe I will. Bisy backson.


There must be a fire nearby. The air over the mountains is a sickly reddish-brown. Oh, well. I meant to write about dreams again. Didn’t happen. But them dreams ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m out of words and my beard seriously needs trimming. Best wordlessly get to it. And so begins the day.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Harnessing Chaos

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“The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.” ~ Sir Douglas Adams


“When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. ~ Albert Camus


“I know that the molecules in my body are traceable to phenomena in the cosmos. That makes me want to grab people on the street and say: ‘Have you HEARD THIS?”  ~ Neil deGrasse Tyson


“Peace and love!”. ~ Ringo Starr


I gotta give myself a peaceful, low-impact high five. Again — eight hours of sleep. Who knew, right? Yeh. Atta boy, Ken. Good work. Fact is, I think that Indica bud is a catalyst that kinda strokes my mind, much like I would stroke the cat, inducing purrs and then sleep, but I admit to needing more overall sleep anyway; and as I said yesterday, I need to spend more time in the Dreamtime. For that implementation, this sticky, aromatic bud is more of a key to the Dreamtime than a catalyst. Ya gotta intend to enter. Indica will put you on the threshold, but if you relinquish motivation you will end up on the door stoop looking for Fritos and spicy-hot bean dip. It is also good for deep, chronic pain, for anxiety, for seizures, and that old bugaboo, depression. I keep the dosages low, for the most part, which keeps the PTSD (the diagnosis that earned me the medical cannabis card) at bay. It seems to defuse the free-floating fear. Bottom line is it works. It also calms the persistent nervousness about having another seizure. It’s been three years now. There is still fear in the back of my mind. The two seizures did no physical harm that I know of. They scared me so dearly because it was so friggin strange! Tiny seizures that altered my perception of reality, and uncomfortably so. I might have panicked, but the central nervous system was otherwise occupied. Over-amped, wound too tight. Dr. Wangs, the neurologist, said that he suspected the episodes were from some unspecified brain damage from when I smacked my head too hard. We had two acronyms: MRI and EEG. They showed nothing beyond the ordinary. Whatever. I’ve gotta live with it. The bud helps. Still, if you see me trembling, know that it is normal for me. It’s all good. No worries.


It’s raptors this morning. Two kestrels and two hawks. I’ve no desire to go into the totem and archetypal symbolism, except to say that I recognize and revere the way these raptors seem to harness chaos. An osprey, for example, hangs loose on a high wind current until she folds her wings and plunges like a stone toward the water. The trick is to snatch the fish from the water while using her wings to pull out of that insane dive. I admire that skill, and can see how it applies to my life changes now. I’ve set something in motion and there’s no going back. Ooooo, mysterious, right? Yeh, right. I’m hoping to head up into the alpine realm after the laundry is done. If we look at the Celtic concept and practice of “Hillwalking” we . . . oh, never mind. I’m done with writing for today.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Realer Than Real

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“For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length–and there I travel looking, looking breathlessly.” ~ Carlos Castaneda

“After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked—as I am surprisingly often—why I bother to get up in the mornings.” ~ Richard Dawkins

“A path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you . . . Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself alone, one question . . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t it is of no use.” ~ Don Juan Matus

I slept late again. The motions I have to go to in turning off the alarm should wake me up, sure enough to ensure I stay awake, so I musta slept right through, which means nearly ten minutes of Baby Ben calling out with the promise of yet another glorious day. And I hope that the sentence I just wrote in only mild irony. I don’t think I could bear peak irony right now. It’s a rather sharp peak these days. The president is trying to leave Oz behind, as he finds himself aloft yet tethered by some rope that some foot soldier forgot to untie. I mean: are you kidding me, dude. There IS no way out. And the balloon may puncture if you stay on that peak too long. It is, as I was saying, sharp. Those CAPS are just for you, BTW. Soooo . . . anyway . . . my sleeping later may alter the patterns here at EyeYotee blog. The subtitle of the blog should say it all at this point, and I’m assuming it does. Dreams in Realtime. What’s happening with the sleep thingy is that my dreams are gaining actual dynamics. They are shaking free from stagnation, stirred by a lot of stuff: love, beauty, justice, and all that old Hippie stuff. I’ve got a medical marijuana card now, and all of that “old Hippie stuff is coming back to me – and it is surprisingly relevant to the times. There was a backlash from the 60s, a breaking down of the powerful influences of the counterculture on this country. That backlash has lost it’s relevance. Truth and beauty are making a comeback, along with Pollyanna thinking. And a rise in consciousness is at hand. I have not the time to tell how this rise might affect me. It’s about the dreams. We dream all the time, awake or not. Ya jest cain’t see ’em while yer  busy with your encultured person persona. And coffee doesn’t help as it pulls you further into waking dreams. Don’t let the world you dream of be marginalized. Yes, I drink coffee, but I’m no hypocrite. I sometimes need to hold back the dynamic dreams while awake. They are too real to ignore, but they are also more real that real – if ya know what I mean. There I go, in search of that certain smile.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 


 

 

High Enchantment

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“It is very strange that the years teach us patience – that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.” ~ Elizabeth Taylor

“In our twenties, when there is still so much time ahead of us, time that seems ample for a hundred indecisions, for a hundred visions and revisions—we draw a card, and we must decide right then and there whether to keep that card and discard the next, or discard the first card and keep the second. And before we know it, the deck has been played out and the decisions we have just made will shape our lives for decades to come.” ~ Amor Towles

“Truth is the offspring of silence and meditation. I keep the subject constantly before me and wait ’til the first dawnings open slowly, by little and little, into a full and clear light.” ~ Sir Isaac Newton

“Rationality is simply mysticism misunderstood.” ~ Peter Kingsley



This Full Moon eclipse Mars conjunction retrograde thing has got me opened up a little beyond my comfort level. I think this is by design. A spirit is walking with me lately, maybe a week or so, give or take. Of course the Veil is thin these days, maybe even more so with all of the big astrological stuff goin’ on. I have not researched that side of things in a while; a little too technical for my current state of mind, perspective, whatever. I’d rather watch the birds fly. Especially ravens. Crows are cool too. Anyway . . . this spirit seems to be, in part, here to help moderate the energy I feel in waiting. Even as calm as I am this morning I almost feel that I could take a few running step, hands clenched in fists, throw my arms out wide, while unfurling the fingers, and take to the sky, flapping my silly head off. Laughing it off as well. Just sayin’. Joyful laughter is the best kind, especially when the joy is running silent, running deep. That’s the kind of joy that unfolds from unconditional romance, from romantic vibes that have no actual focus to them; ambient stuff that is sometimes like a whole web of kitten purrs in process of being spun again, re-spun into a story that owes time no favors. Love is not a Time-bound thing to begin with. In the kind of story I just mentioned, Time holds about as much sway as a cobweb. Of course the idea of these amorphous vibes evolving into the real thing, to any degree, plain terrifies me. I mean . . . what would I even do then? This I say to y’all: I would effectively laugh out loud . . . put a silly grin on my face . . . and just wing it. Do I see such a development in my future? Well, not rightly so, but I can build myself a fine facsimile to look inward and look at what looks like the real thing. Geez, why am I even talking about this this morning? I mean, what the Puck, right? I’ve always seen Puck as sort of right hand man for the great god Pan. Yet with the MidSummers Night Dream come and gone I am starting to feel enveloped in the fresh green field of the Green Man. The forest, the dale, the high mountain canyon that is held aloft by a golden aspen grove, hovering high above the valley floor, transcending the mountain through enchantment, because enchantment is a healthy step above daily mundane existence. A woman, a friend told me about that aspen grove. I’m gonna go there pretty soon. From a lingering bout of sedentary duff-sitting I’m not in too good shape. I was planning on heading out to the west rim trail by the Gorge first, to get my leg muscles feeling plucky before I go way up into the Alpine realm. But it occurred to me that it would be poor management of the perpetual anxiety I bear. Don’t wanna always coddle it. Sometimes to dive in and just do it is the best way. Does that go for romance should it comes? Likely so. I don’t know. That’s not today’s concern. It’s not a concern at all. The Veil is wide-open from the Moon and stuff. More than one somebody have come through for me. I  must walk with these spirits through this time-ridden phase in my life. My long-lived troubadour phase is fizzling.



Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Definition and Word Magic

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“Human language, for us moderns, has swung in on itself, turning its back on the beings around us. Language is a human property, suitable only for communication with other persons. We talk to people; we do not speak to the ground underfoot. We’ve largely forgotten the incantatory and invocational use of speech as a way of bringing ourselves into deeper rapport with the beings around us, or of calling the living land into resonance with us. It is a power we still brush up against whenever we use our words to bless and to curse, or to charm someone we’re drawn to. But we wield such eloquence only to sway other people, and so we miss the greater magnetism, the gravitational power that lies within such speech. The beaver gliding across the pond, the fungus gripping a thick trunk, a boulder shattered by its tumble down a cliff or the rain splashing upon those granite fragments — we talk about such beings, the weather and the weathered stones, but we do not talk to them. Entranced by the denotative power of words to define, to order, to represent the things around us, we’ve overlooked the songful dimension of language so obvious to our oral [storytelling] ancestors. We’ve lost our ear for the music of language — for the rhythmic, melodic layer of speech by which earthly things overhear us.” ~ David Abram



“It follows that the myriad things are also listening, or attending, to various signs and gestures around them. Indeed, when we are at ease in our animal flesh, we will sometimes feel we are being listened to, or sensed, by the earthly surroundings. And so we take deeper care with our speaking, mindful that our sounds may carry more than a merely human meaning and resonance. This care — this full-bodied alertness — is the ancient, ancestral source of all word magic. It is the practice of attention to the uncanny power that lives in our spoken phrases to touch and sometimes transform the tenor of the world’s unfolding.” ~ David Abram



Tension Garnered

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“The worst mistake a writer can make is to assume everyone has an imagination.” ~ Andrew McEwan

“How ya doin’?’ I always think, What kind of a question is that?, and I always reply, ‘A bit early to tell.” ~ Christopher Hitchens

“And it never even occurs to them their certainty that they are different is what makes them the same.” ~ David Foster Wallace

“In our native terms, the ironic style is often compounded with the sardonic and the hard-boiled; even the effortlessly superior. But irony originates in the glance and the shrug of the loser, the outsider, the despised minority. It is a nuance that comes most effortlessly to the oppressed.” ~ Christopher Hitchens

It seems I’m feeling a tad cynical and two tads judgmental this morning. But I won’t let it go to my head. It is a day, more so than usual, when I could stay home and keep myself entertained with stuff and such from Netflix. Lap cat, a spot of ale later on in the afternoon, likely the heating pad right around that same time. Uptight? Yeh. Can I relax? That takes a little more time to unwind than it does to accumulate. So much of bodily and emotional tension accumulates below the threshold of consciousness. By the time you notice it the notice comes because ya done gone and did it to yourself again. As a depressive I can do that without even taking the luxury of leaving home. The weight of the world has a distinct disbelief in walls. It can find you anywhere. No, I don’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders again. Yesterday at work was a rigorous and significantly difficult challenge. It’s not that anything went actually wrong, or anybody did anything wrong. It didn’t. They didn’t. Our team pulled it off. The tension garnered, for me, was qualified by a distinct sense of accomplishment. Doing your job well, doing your best, acting impeccably . . . these are some basic tools for depressives. You don’t need to go and give yourself a pat on the head and an attaboy. Just do it and gracefully accept the balm that comes from doing it. It’s that simple. Be proud but don’t make a big thing of it. But don’t stylishly downplay it either. Attempts at humility often fail as soon as they begin. Don’t go there. Just don’t. Sigh. I’m gettin’ kinda sorta heady here and I’ve had about enough of that for now. It’s a workday. Time to get out and look at the sunrise for a few minutes, then rinse off in the shower. These too are good tools for depressives. Just sayin’.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Hands on the Handlebars

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“Wear your too large wings with confidence. You’ll grow into them.” ~ Anna Sabino

“You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish. I have no responsibility to be like they expect me to be. It’s their mistake, not my failing.” ~ Richard Feynman

“No man has the right to dictate what other men should perceive, create or produce, but all should be encouraged to reveal themselves, their perceptions and emotions, and to build confidence in the creative spirit.” ~ Ansel Adams

Wow. That Richie Feynman quote gets me every time. Feynman, of course, was one of the nuclear physicist on the Manhattan Project, and a fine writer as well. As I see it his overall perspective boils down to ‘just because you can name it doesn’t mean you know it‘. Aye to that, good buddy. I’ve been finding that out in therapy lately; I can nail something down with laser-sharp accuracy and clarity, but clarity is a barrier. The emotional turmoil is not something to be fixed. You’ve got to dive in and surf that wave, no matter how turbulent, no matter how dizzy you get. Think Luke Skywalker, flying down into the internal chasms of the Death Star. Note that it was not control of the ship he relinquished. The one guiding the ship is the Ego. There is no need to let go of the ego because it ain’t goin’ nowhere. And don’t remove your hands from the handlebars when the going gets scary. I’ve got a story I could tell about that but I am out of time. I’ve been sleeping later, which is a totally perplexing change, and it ain’t intentional. But I am devoted to this early morning blogging. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Angels on a Pinhead

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“Perfection of character is this: to live each day as if it were your last, without frenzy, without apathy, without pretense.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

“You are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.” ~ Richard Bach

“What we call our destiny is truly our character and that character can be altered. The knowledge that we are responsible for our actions and attitudes does not need to be discouraging, because it also means that we are free to change this destiny. One is not in bondage to the past, which has shaped our feelings, to race, inheritance, background. All this can be altered if we have the courage to examine how it formed us. We can alter the chemistry provided we have the courage to dissect the elements.” ~ Anaïs Nin

Somehow it never occurred to me to wonder: are the angels really necessary? In my own experience they are always there when needed, “needed” being the operative word. In the recent past a woman asked me why don’t I go to my angels and ask them to heal me of all my structural damage and emotional trauma. That’s a rather large request, from an earthly point of view. My own tendency is to get a bit Buddhist and work toward coming to terms with all of the hot mess involved, coming to peace with what it takes to live with what it takes. So, if they are always there when necessary, what do they do when they are not needed? Or are they even there? You betcha. Regardless, it’s complicated. Whatever, right? Like how many angels can stand on the head of a pin? The answer is easy: as many as want to.

“Sunset is an angel weeping
Holding out a bloody sword
No matter how I squint I cannot
Make out what it’s pointing toward
Sometimes you feel like you live too long
Days drip slowly on the page
You catch yourself
Pacing the cage” ~ Bruce Cockburn

Just took a break to check out the sunrise . . . no, wait. Yes, the text in the preceding quotes is a different size from the rest. I copy/pasted from The Cockburn Project’s website. It’s their fault, but danged if I can’t figure out how to change it without opening up different software. It stays. It says what I need it to say. And neither will I choose nor refuse to petition the angels for all that healing that was suggested by my friend. It will hold until tomorrow. Call it Celestial Procrastination. I can hear my prime angel laughing at me right now. It’s not audible, but it is unmistakable, nonetheless. And she’s like, dude you think you get a choice as to how to qualify the situation; what part of need don’t you understand? Boy howdy I do indeed get the point. Not that this is all pertinent to my day, yet I will still, as always, be open to that “pssst”, tap on the shoulder, or, less appreciably so, a smack upside the head. I got one of them big powerful smacks once, and I ain’t never been the same. I’ve yet to come to terms with it. And I don’t ask for total healing from it simply because the angel set me on this path to begin with by offering me a choice. She oughta know. Luckily all I have to do today is laundry. Whew. Dodged that bullet. Thinking about this heady stuff . . . well, there’s not much I can do about that except to cultivate the better thoughts of the bunch. Better thoughts? This is no endorsement for positive thinking. Please don’t think that, it ain’t true. But my friend who suggested the healing may be right. What then? I don’t know. But to that friend I can only say about all this is that it is a joy to disagree with you because that disagreement in no way qualifies our relationship. Anyway, I gotta go do laundry. No one is going to do it for me, and it needs to be done. Is that an analogy? Yeh, maybe. But don’t count on it. Just get the job done. Luckily this is one job that I enjoy doing.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Amiability of Convenience

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“Other animals, in a constant and mostly unmediated relation with their sensory surroundings, think with the whole of their bodies.” ~ David Abram

“Other animals, in a constant and mostly unmediated relation with their sensory surroundings, think with the whole of their bodies.” ~ David Abram

“We are too frightened of shadows. We cannot abide our vulnerability, our utter dependence upon a world that can eat us. Vast in its analytic and inventive power, modern humanity is crippled by a fear of its own animality, and of the animate earth that sustains us.” ~ David Abram

Wow, I either slept too long or slept enough. When I awoke at 3 AM to mindlessly turn off the alarm I laid right back down into a web of dreams. I think all dreams are webs, spun by Clotho, one of the Three Fates, to give us access to our subliminal and subconscious (and unconscious mind) mind. Then . . . . I awoke at 4:45 AM and got up into this waking dream. I call this waking world a dream. It’s a shamanic thing: my NDE in 1984 served as a kind of shamanic initiation. So, if it’s a dream . . . just how is it different from the ineffable dreams? The differences are legion, but one I find to be of crucial importance is that our waking reality contains the force, and gift, of convenience. Our task is to pass through the convenience as if it is a mere chance at taking a breather from our spiritual journey. Hmmmm, don’t think about that too much, k? So why so lofty today, Mr, Ebert? Well, it is partially last night’s dreams, which seemed to be sourced in the future. I don’t remember details. But yesterday’s massage was better than usual. My struggle to prioritize convenience way down the list from the top, and keep it there, had me all knotted up from another struggle to escape from the strands that are no longer viable in my life. Lachesis’s web. Lacheis is one of the Fates as well. She does the spinning. Sometimes we get trapped. Then in therapy we drifted into a discussion of Lori, who was the love of my life. She died in a car crash, in 1995, dammit. That knotted me up good. Yesterday I nearly cried out loud during therapy, yet I inexplicably held it back, folded it, and put it back in the drawer where it belongs. It’s an excellent sign. I am becoming freed from the convenience of thinking and living as if Lori were gone. She’s not, not really. Love like that has a long shelf life. Her spirit is with me right now. She taught me more about love than any other woman. I would like to apply that knowledge with a new woman. There is nothing convenient about striving for that goal. I gotta remember that on a daily basis. Convenience may often appear amiable, but it not your friend.

addendum: the novel I am writing is titled The Final Convenience. I will be playing here with the whole idea of convenience — so you can expect more.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.