Scorecard

A good video on Love and relationship is on YouTube just got posted, find at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqAEfBMlJoc

A wide view of contemporary views from deep in the academic expertise to anecdotes from those stopped on the street.

Up late again tonight surfing online. I have serous doubts about my ability to network well online given what happens everytime I go online. With respect to my current interest in moving into new communities and making significant steps in that area online, can't seem to plug in at all. Instead, I have several bad tastes in my mouth over issues that are pet peeves of mine about what I find online, and are conditions which are what they are and will always be that way or worse. No, for me, I need to stay conscious about my committment to community and then proceed to participate with those communities in exactly the way that will satisfy me to do so.

A major fact of online interaction with others is now an almost constant and always greater bait and switch foreward which is based on a design of call for action. That action is invariably one for money!

MONEY! I have some serious and unmoveable issues with this element present across the internet and how its expression corrupts the possibilities of a global conscious link to life for constantly scratching the walls for anything money that can be mined there. If you buy into the intrinsic value of money then you're the vanguard of the internets marketability and business value.

For those who are all about money, this technology is driven by cash at its very core, the energy to run in it costs money. So those who make the investment, they have advantages in terms of their access and power over the operation of the internet and thish leads them to introducing profiteering in precisely that place of human affairs in which it can do the most damage.

That damage is taking the wisdom of our ancester's and our own possibliities of evolving in applying that wisdom consciously and continuing to learn from it, taking that and hiding it away.

It boggles the mind how nothing today appears any better or supportive for my own need to wake up and evolve myself consciously on higher levels of being. Everything actually seems quite worse for the wear, with small periods of calm now, then, and again, like the video on Love at YouTube I spoke about at the beginning of this entry.

Right now, begin single seems like a blessing. Part of me remains quite upset about this condition still being present in my life at age 50. Zen, tantra, 4th way, art, music, golf ... pretty much sums up my interests for now.

Execution Kills

Is this bigger
you know the yells
some that had gall.

Just because of fade
some resonation
produces today.

Oh, I am ready!
Your the one in need
I will regret or kill.

Here in the trough
the depth equals the height
and the light retreats.

Just the new shadow
always a good wank
to crumble so well

Your travel ends here
in this right bright moment
suffer you slut and wonder.

And, until the day I die
must I continue in this
hissing melancholic climb

I only regret through time
evil will find BETTER skill
He learned execute THE kill.

I mostly just mosey along
with room to fart clean air
Avoiding that rot is a key.

Maybe I'll show you mine
sometime that winds prime
And a real love that's free.



6/11/09 Rjd

Divination or Round of Roll

Title of this poem is Round of Roll, referring to the essence of the write from which it came, however Divination being a previous title which was left unfinished in content actually impresses me as having a very strong connection worth contemplating now....and for the poem


Nothing matters more than factual reality
the foundation of reliability that must needs
a resonation that impinges sheer intent
the answer echos, to break the news.

Disasters and threats to life and homeland
Natural outcroppings of chaos gone sleazy
cheesy versions valued better than rest
made bite size and dumber for the mass.

We listen to the echo in all that hollow
and mistake the source of our attention
lacking consciousness of the resonation
and the possibility of our own evolution.

Simplicity is simply not enough for this
empty tea cups filled with master's tea
was never real except to the one mind
where simple beginnings are complex.

The echo reigns harmonic sorrows
with every failed fullfilment made
keeping such sounds that promise
garden seeds are meant for harvest.

All efforts remain mistakes in the end
as every mass misses what resonation
raises germane beneath the surface
so afraid of chaos that truth is lost.

6/10/09, rjd

Social Places

This morning I'm reeling with how little support I had for my health growing up. Other than the mediocre habits of diet and the abysmal mental practices I received from my family, I had only the grit of my own being. As I have begun to see that power of resistance fade and fail at the age 50, the possibilities I lost and never even suspected growing up, the enlightment and knoweledge, the blessings my forefathers left me in a repository of wisdom rarely seen except for echos and refrains emitting a shine where everything else in life casts a shadow.

This old programming, the influence of the past, I choose to free myself from. Time to work however. I have a job.

~Gravity Rose

Originally written in May, 2004, rev May 2009


My pricked and bleeding flesh
from a thorn's rosey afront…
Betray beauty in a brutal flora.
Tears flush the burnt coral I smell.

The fault and pain made mine...
remains of innocent opposition
buried by collapse, bad recoil that
pride did need, denying the darkness.

Love infatuated ruins the innocent,
just like water negates the fire of flames.
Neither life, nor innocence, contest
the inevitable demise, of romance.

Until then, you and I, dance
the tragic heartbreak tango
wounded by stakes lost in storm.
Our steps now soaked on flooded floor.

With a saving grace, context
teaches mobius tricks exist
whereby openings are closures,
revealing sources beyond sublime.

My sadness grows with regards
to tender nostalgia over the worst
requited release in the evil of love.
A soul destroyer, with noisey word rattle.

Her articulation of my failure, now
years passed, razes just as bad.
And any hope of change betrays
the word pricks that remain.

Grown up, a better man,
her words struck in scars.
How I live feeling that wrong
keeps me up late still, injurious.

Our life's blooming rose path
some are lucky just to hear
of, grave my warnings, if lame
as I gravitate this read anyway.

Of her earlier thorns...
I never understood her pain
only later, when I was safe
from our demonic side-effects.

I cut her off in a pass, so my bad
she decides, and our world ended.
Plain and simple, in a boy slamfest
better maimed than roadkill she said.

My anger was exchange of discredit.
A word assault to strike and probe.
That layer is groundwork of challenge.
Tomorrow's sober stories will tell.


Copyright © 5/17/04, RJDuberg
Revised 5/30/09

Zen Insight

The zen master, pouring tea, says to his student, "Your mind is like this tea cup, unless you master the art of emptiness, there will be no room for anything new." And, with that, the teacup began to overflow with the tea from the master's pot, falling to the ground.

I love this analogy because I have lots of personal experience of having a mind running in so many different ways that focusing has become less and less defined and possible in my estimation as my ability to skillfully energize its presence increases. The best way to describe it is watching a continual skipping from track to track creating a flow of life analogous to the sound such actions produce on a turntable when one plays their favorite LP.

Creating emptiness then is fundamental to receiving anything. This must then be the first step towards attaining reality and a complete being.

Following Artists

Don't have a writer to speak of. Listening to Dave Matthews right now, thinking of JLightner, a roommate, who just flew to see him thousands of miles away, play in New York. Tonight, I had fun watching/listening to comedic stand-up.  Ellen DeGeneres, P. Oneal, Craig F, even Tom Hanks was entertaining on cue with David Letterman.

The real story here remains the international economical crisis. There just doesn't seem to be any end to the limits our plans find pertinent and real. The machine doesn't exist anywhere except in our minds along with varying instructional accounts for its operation. Except here, under democratic rule, such social flaws were supposed to stop. Actually, we only succeeded in shining a light into our bottomless capacity to live the machine when our freedom has been attained.

I'm still thinking about how to channel my anger towards my family situation. So far, I've only succeeded in echoing the dysfunction and lived a series of intimate relationships designed to break my heart and create a feeling of being abandoned. I've got that one down, and I no longer am surprised when this demon raises its ugly head in my world and life anymore.

So it goes...

Along with this media swarm, there is the instinct to choke on all the dirt. Let me just say that without acknowledging my responsibility for the amount of dirt in close proximity to my person as being equal or greater, I would not be honest in speaking about that beyond my reach.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to note a recent observation regarding the value this personal blog actually has for me. There's something empowering about writing one's internal story out when one stays conscious of public access to its read. The focus and the result is completely different than identical literary aims I've had lacking this readership dimension. What is that difference?

In my head the difference has to do with something being read, and my influence over that event. Now with respect, I find this takes work, and I often seem less than competent or skilled in the task, but regardless.

I speak to love and listen for it, and yet my life fails to unfold in any sensible manner or reason. The answers exist but believe me when I say they do not make any difference with respect to the experience of one's being this way. This jumbled and unfocused thing is all I have and all I get, and this knowledge as well was supposed to be of great influence in some transformational context, but biting only resulted in my being hauled out of my flow. What is outside of one's flow is no less as valid and yet being outside the flow it remains foreign and insubstantial to life within the flow.

And, finding myself unable to carry anything else into this entry, I close. Hootie's Blowfish makes timeless into music for me now.

Family Remains

While my father's previous wife to my mother's marriage and my birth has been problematic for me due to her insane and disruptive behaviors, the reality for me in the larger perspective has been no less crazy and broken down. She has over the years done some truly heinous evil deeds and I could attach all responsibility, at least for the most part, on her. Thinking about my value for my father however, I can imagine how his infidelity to her with my mother, conceiving me with my mom while he was still married to his previous wife could cause that woman the worst even unimaginable kind of female wrath. Reasonable at least where without such understanding I've only suffered the dregs of confusion and resentment against all manner and type of target, credited with guilt by simple association, imagined or real.

The breakthrough in this change of perspective puts responsibility to a degree on my father's immoral act, and forces me to accept my existence as cursed karmically from being a direct result of his lack of integrity. While my mother and he declared me their love child, I am not so easily convinced in the righteousness of that reason.

However, my existence, to have meaning requires that I reconcile the betrayal somehow. That my conscious awareness regarding my suffering and its source relative to my lack of family support and security is maturing to the point of helping me calm my roll and eliminate inappropriate action and emotion(drama), existence remains an unanswered call for me, a void only a genuine purpose will fill.

Raising a family and enjoying the special reality and love a good family milieu provides seems entirely impossible for me at this time. That leaves me alone, I am what's left. From my father's early betrayal, all that is left for me is me, and I ask you, what can possibly exist for me in this life when all that might have been is lost? Even my luck is ruined by that karmic nightmare. I can't even have a decent time playing a simple game because luck is always against me.

Finding something I love to do occurs as a possibility only because there are things I like to do, like write. But, once again the karma card trumps everything else. I'm quite sure nobody cares or wants to read what I have to write or say.

Thus, I understand how the gravity of my life has favored instinctive levels of satisfaction. Eating, sleeping, mind altering substances, all manner of masturbations, etc.  Well, get some help you might say. Did all that, and yet, I know I have nothing else, so I must try again.

Things are never the way they seem

Eminem article in this weeks Entertainment Weekly reports that his post recovery performance and productivity is characterized by him knowing what he wants and how do go about getting it, and most importantly keeping a focus on what's needed and making it happen. I believe that's an oversimplification and worse a gross misrepresentation, designed and paid for by his managers in a behind the scenes conspiracy with the publication.

Or am I just biased by a skewed point of view regarding my own lack of being relative to that? One can and does know quite a lot about what they want. I think for most, underneath their states of denial and distraction, this much can be said to be true if not readily so. It's the knowledge of how to achieve those objectives and the report of an irresistable approach and effort, without error or failure, which I find a bit ridiculous.

Such statements I believe to be at best gross exaggerations and in truth idealizations which turn on dishonesty when presented otherwise.

What a good plan feels like...

It's amazing how much effort I waste planning because I don't create the appropriate feeling necessary to have a plan succeed. A good plan is one felt with confidence to work. Genuinely felt, ego has no part in this assessment, and such plans that are constructed by ego inevitably fail with the exception of abuses of power. That's another subject however for now, the main idea is a simple test one may verify regarding their plans which has to do with conscious awareness of their level of confidence in its success. Often, such plans arrive in our minds rather than get constructed, at least for  myself. I believe it would be a great evolution of my intellect if I could in fact construct such plans consistently.

This kind of reality check during construction, I'm hoping will help me develop more sensitivity towards planning successfully by choice rather by accident for the time being.

The Eocene Era

The question that comes to mind after watching some new Palentology about this age is this...

Does function follow form or not? Or, does form follow function? From what I'm hearing the functionality which emerged at this period in our history OWES its characters to the level and gestalt of the environment/world which was present, the specific ecological DNA of that moment. Not only is this the primary constraint to evolution as we so far have been able to observe and detect it, nothing really has changed and yet everything has changed. Now, is this because our world changes constantly. The answer to this question is about the essence of time.

Time is a series with no two moments being equal yet referring to a unity, two concepts which are mutually exclusive. And as much as I've left this paradox at bay behind the mysteries of irrational modes of thinking, the damn question deserves a rational door or point of access, don't you think?

Therefore what can we say regrarding the original or even originality itself?

Father's Resolve and lyrics by Sheryl Crow, Always on Your Side

"Always On Your Side"


My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side

Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
My demons and my angels reappear
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought I'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I always feared
Leavin' you with only questions all these years

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
Was it you that kept me wondering through this life
When you know that I was always on your side

-RIP Dad, I can't help but still weep for you even today, especially after listening to this.

RIP Maryland

Maryland is the name of a very old soul who died two days ago, a 15 year old cainine, all white, adorable bitch. She belonged to a friend and roommate, but too all of us who lived at Elkwood near the Pacific in Imperial Beach, she was our guardian master. She will be so very missed, may she rest in peace. Goodbye girl.

Finally, it's been about this...

The title of this blog holds the space though represents the process producing the words here which for me include a faded recreation of the evolving itself, thus only and actually from the past and ghosted over.

But, given the task to express one's vision or top goal or purpose for writing a book, and this blog being the closest thing I currently have to a book, I somehow managed to thread its beginning all the way back to my father's promise to me to inform me about life after death. That was 38 years ago and has yet to happen.

I can comfortably say that my life has been about that promise and its lack of fulfillment which I still relate to with a painstaking still patience but which I hide with all manner of ineffective initiative and action.

So then, to whom can I find help regarding this insight now? Perhaps no one will step forward without a bill and compensation, all of which creates a degree of suspicion about yet another treatment, change, etc. which you can well imagine I am exhausted by over the last 30 plus years of such trying efforts.

Sounds crazy to me but I cannot hide from the fact that what my life is about is seeking a means to resolve my father's lack of communication after his death. It is just to inconsistent with his having made the promise to me shortly before he died in my arms to begin with.

To attempt a positive spin perhaps I could say my life is about how touching death with one's heart is unwise without being able to completely let go of our former bonds to the life having just passed in our presence.

How to reduce this to the most powerful language is my current task before progressing it seems....

Tinkering with Stover, is it enough to delete by accident?

OMG! Using browser blog editor earlier today, I wrote a fairly indepth piece on the moment titled Now This... it was quick and fast but really an important look into my research into Tantra, but wait...

Tonight saw me switch over to review a earlier more intellectual influence named Jessica Stover, a creative talent quick to cite her literary contexts as relevant and classical elegance like that has never grown old for me. Anyway, here to enter something noteworthy before proceeding into the later hours of my night tonight, I clicked a button titled clear content before having published it to to my blog, thus losing a degree of value I deemed important regarding my wish to evolve my health and healing.

Now here I am with Stover's quote and praise for this insight which I have repeatedly every day regarding how I perform my tasks at the golf course and achieve a daily freshness which represents more importantly a ongoing refinement and greater efficiency in my production.

She refers to Nassim Nicholas Taleb, author of the The Black Swan: The Impact of the HIGHLY IMPROBABLE....and I excerpt on the following ...

" Random tinkering is the path to success. And fortunately, we are increasingly learning to practice it without knowing it--thanks to overconfident entrepreneurs, naive investors, greedy investment bankers, confused scientists and aggressive venture capitalists brought together by the free-market system.

We need more tinkering: Uninhibited, aggressive, proud tinkering. We need to make our own luck. We can be scared and worried about the future, or we can look at it as a collection of happy surprises that lie outside the path of our imagination."

In my experience there is a very concrete level to this phenomenon. And it has to do with achieving a level of productive expertise and repetitive competence which can carry a simple codex of steps to direct any layperson to recreate such competent productivity with some acceptable degree of imperfection. I achieve every other day in my routine tasks in outside service at CVGC. When I become unconsciously adept at performing, my first impulse after food, sex, and comfort is to "tinker" with the way. Generally, such tinkerings have a positive and negative impact, achieving some new potential path of action having inspired it in the first place, but such change causing the ordered roll at that moment to become imbalanced and different. Different how? To some degree the result changes which is the ultimate measure of any cause in the first place, that by gauging its effect.

What's interesting is how naturally my mind responds to such results in terms of assessing their value in terms of the ERROR which relates the change in effect. To correct that error becomes the meta-tinker phase of tinkering and is in my mind central to our creativity as it relates to transformation and breakthrough success.

So, it is that only ERROR gives way to SUCCESS and what we desire as the completed result. As new editions of completion via this process of error correction take place, the meta-phase of the process becomes conscious, its metaphysical value, the transcendence of illusion and dichotomy to integral processing and being clear in reality.

More later....

Gut Check to a Shocking Poem

A stunning poem and my comment for the record...

The price to pay...

I sat and watched her as she slept,
Her skin so ghostly white.
I saw as dark'ning shadows crept,
Escaping from the light.

The deathly Angel spread his wings
To take her soul away
As Heaven's choirs plucked gentle strings
In random disarray.

I watched her as her movement ceased;
Her body lay so still
As if the Angel had released
All suffering and ill.

At last I cried, my voice returned,
"Please stop, don't take her now."
The Angel looked, so unconcerned,
With boredom on his brow.

"Kill me," I sighed, "Kill me instead,
And I will take her place."
The Angel said, "But she is dead,
Look down upon her face."

I hoped that with the Saviour's grace
My plea could be allowed.
My tears were wet upon my face,
I pleaded long and loud.

"Her soul is free from sin and pure
But yours is dark and black.
Your words are childish, immature,
Why should I bring her back?"

The Angel's words were straight and true
But still I forced my plea.
Though he refused I tried anew
He must not disagree.

At last he smiled and held my eye;
"Your wish is in my hand;
I have decided to comply
But you must understand;

"Your life is ended as we speak
And she will live once more.
The tears have dried now on your cheek-
So let us count the score.

"You cannot take the vacant place
In Heaven where she'll dwell;
For you are doomed from now to face
Eternity in Hell."

Davidmm fro Poetry 4 Suzanne Blog 3/17/09

Hi David,

Just read your poem. I have to say that I haven't read or watched or attended such a simple and potent dramatic scene that I can remember in such a while, the overwhelming loss, the sacraficial offer, only to be wrecked on the turnabout twist at the end.

While I know this scenario is cliche, you had done such a nice job of recreating it, and in doing so with such a highly valued human sentiment bridging upon the mystical and religious, one never tires of such renditions which elegantly capture the essence of this spiritual drama, at least for me. Which leads me to speculate on your reason for turning this whole drama upside down as you did.

I can't recall any enduring stories in which a man (or woman) negotiates with a higher power to save and in turn sacrafice themselves which led to damnation. Clearly, there are reasons why describing the basic moral good upon which the whole heaven/hell dichotomy as it relates to human life rests.

And yet, reading the comments which came before, nowhere did I find anyone concerned with this basic violation of classic values either? So, then the question is, have I missed some new evolution of human spirit in which your reversal on one of the most basic of human spiritual values makes sense? If no, then I'm back to conjuring a more palatable foundation for this violation, per se. Maybe you can help me here if you feel inclined, for what might be the alternative to what I can only surmise as mischief for the sake of attention grabbing shock produced by such a departure from the norm or cliche?

As a last resort, I would suggest emphasizing or balancing such a orthogonal negation of a classic with an element of mystery, at least, for as every rule was meant to be broken (as such) even the most solidly accepted classics which remain unbroken rules to this day might still find themselves excused in some future evolution of human spirit. And, I think we must all agree to that, IE I don't believe a single individual of faith hasn't imagined how much more influential the good book would be if their beloved almighty weren't dispossesed with a little more reality and conherency and a lot less mystery and dogma.

The real irony of this poem has to do with your eloquent and powerful grasp of the drama revealing a depth of faithful involvement which must have been at least at one time serious, only to see it turned on its head, without any fanfare or blaring horn. Indeed, the poems complete reversal of the classic drama reveals a rare potential complete reversal of the author's past faith.

Yet, why am I so hesitant to raise this intuitive insight up as my conclusion? It's not that I doubt such reversals take place. Perhaps, it is because of all the reversals and their range to which I may attest to have encountered, nare I say can I remember one which didn't include a litany of wreckage associated with the process, including some degree of scarring as well? Should my intuition regarding the source of this work from your pen be near spot on I must exclaim my kudos for how you've left the usual unexpressed, first because I'm sure it was not easy, and second, because the result is infinitely more poetic in its simplicity and elegance.

On the other hand, you might have simply decided to twist this classic on a ruse, being more than faithful perhaps or simply mischevious. Perhaps, you may enlighten me, but regardless, it was certainly worth the read and afterthought, attempting to put the real story in proper perspective and its light of revelation.

Rjd

Inside "Focusing" work by Ann Cornell

The further I get into a book by Ann Cornell called, The Radical Acceptance of Everything, the more I see her work aligned in its efforts to what I've already come to embrace in the Fourth Way. There's no spiritual, historical background behind "focusing," but the success made by her and her colleagues greatly raises awareness in a way that repairs the wrong work and dysfunctionality of being human, rendering us the worst of machines. Concepts used for FOCUSING and those offered by the Fourth Way have completely different intents and exist on different scales of being. For the hearer, the ideas of focusing exist only insofar as are effective tools for direction and guidance for those engaged in the theraputic process itself. While Fourth Way concepts reveal an intellectual and descriptive mode or level of thinking about being human, Cornells concepts support a process between speaker and listener in which the listener is challenged semantically in precise ways which result in transformations to the awareness. The effect on awareness reflects a clearer and much wider field of reality we all seem pretty much blind to at present and in our past.

Just today, after reading anecdotes in which FOCUSING techniques were applied to obtain results, I found my own personal awareness significantly shifted. It's a very difficult process to withstand. In particular, the sorrow associated with recognizing how much of life is or was missed growing up. How unaware I was is overwhelmingly shocking as I see how I might just as easily been instructed as a child in a way leading to higher levels of awareness that we all actually need to be fully human and happy, in the first degree.

One of the most important distinctions I can offer at this time about the difference in the quality of awareness has to do with the idea of listening. The work of Cornell is all about focusing one's listening on what we have not been listening to and long ago forgot even existed. These PLACES and AREAS for which our awareness was withdrawn, continued to exist influencing us in such negative but hidden and unacknowledged ways.

So, now is the beginning of a real period of recovery in my life.

And all the time, while growing up, going to a psychotherapist, I was under the impression that I was either doomed or cursed in some way, somehow defective in my core and that my happiness was always going to be at best transient, always covering over the knowledge that in some permanent way I was not relevant to my world.

Well, with today's new insights among other recent ones, I have begun to feel encouraged to engage in relative work I can either devise or find to test out what's possible for the health and healing of my being-awareness. The core of it all is pure awareness, the evolution of it through higher consciousness. It's not really changing the process as much as it is evolving my ability to be aware, and in that higher awareness the process of life and its quality transforms by itself.

My issues, for now remain the same in general, though a lot of movement has taken place within these contexts in the last few days.  Family, love, money, health, happiness, liberty, justice, spirit, education. These remain my main and primary issues in life, today.

Now This...

My little space here to write and blog, quite the escape for my mind and it's unending editorials on my life. The analytical quality is what everyone who notices the seepage of this expression thinks about what I say. And thereafter, I am over-analytical, too-analytical, etc.

I certainly have a strong impulse to order and sort my language and relevant ideas, and the flow just happens to have taken me to well, here. I'm seeing a widening though and I feel that I can sublimate much of the overt expressions more and more. I think I'm beginning to succeed in sorting it all out where my thoughts have progressed to a space of health and possibility of the kind quite hard to "escape" from willingly, for any reason.

This brings me to my taste for modern celtic pop music and how it often carries a harmony of sorrow, the last vestiage of pain associated with loss and my memories. It is harmonic and that penetrates the pain with a shattering wellspring of renewed energy potential to which our life can begin again with dawn's early light.

Einstein's ideas on God

Einstein's REAL view on G-D:

1)  I want to know how God created this world. I am not interested in this or that phenomenon, in the spectrum of this or that element. I want to know His thoughts; the rest are details.

2)  Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind.

3)  My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind.

4}  The further the spiritual evolution of mankind advances, the more certain it seems to me that the path to genuine religiosity does not lie through the fear of life, and the fear of death, and blind faith, but through striving after rational knowledge.

5)  Every one who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the Universe-a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble.

## The scientists' religious feeling takes the form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection.

6)  There is no logical way to the discovery of elemental laws. There is only the way of intuition, which is helped by a feeling for the order lying behind the appearance.

7)  The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.

8)  The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious; It is the source of all true art and science.

9)  We should take care not to make the intellect our god; it has, of course, powerful muscles, but no personality.

10)   Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the Gods.

11)   When the solution is simple, God is answering.

12)   God does not play dice with the universe.

13)   God is subtle but he is not malicious.

14)  A human being is a part of the whole, called by us Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest-a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole nature in its beauty.

15)  Nothing will benefit human health and increase the chances for survival of life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet.

16)  The man who regards his own life and that of his fellow creatures as meaningless is not merely unfortunate but almost disqualified for life.

17)  Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.

18)  Only a life lived for others is a life worth while.

19)  The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books---a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.

20)  The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.

21)  What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility. This is a genuinely religious feeling that has nothing to do with mysticism.

22)  The finest emotion of which we are capable is the mystic emotion. Herein lies the germ of all art and all true science. Anyone to whom this feeling is alien, who is no longer capable of wonderment and lives in a state of fear is a dead man. To know that what is impenetrable for us really exists and manifests itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, whose gross forms alone are intelligible to our poor faculties - this knowledge, this feeling ... that is the core of the true religious sentiment. In this sense, and in this sense alone, I rank myself among profoundly religious men.

23)  The real problem is in the hearts and minds of men. It is easier to denature plutonium than to denature the evil spirit of man.

24)  True religion is real living; living with all one's soul, with all one's goodness and righteousness.

25)  Intelligence makes clear to us the interrelationship of means and ends. But mere thinking cannot give us a sense of the ultimate and fundamental ends. To make clear these fundamental ends and valuations and to set them fast in the emotional life of the individual, seems to me precisely the most important function which religion has to form in the social life of man.

The Existence of God

Einstein said, "My position concerning God is that of an agnostic. I am conv inced that a vivid consciousness of the primary importance of moral principles for the betterment and ennoblement of life does not need the idea of a law-giver, especially a law-giver who works on the basis of reward and punishment."

"The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious."

My comment is ...  I hear Einstein's arguement against the existence of god as a direct result of his idea that man's higher possibilities in general are directly related to his having higher levels of consciousness, and that these are independent of any idea or belief in God. The arguement then is that if what is possible is available independently of the idea of god then that necessarily invalidates the existence of God, because in a world where nothing changes of value when the idea of the very source of value is removed, then that source must not exist. For, it's very definition doesn't allow it to when it becomes unnecessary.

IE Would God ever be observed just chillin or hanging out, IE Existing? No, therefore, God does Not exist.

Along the High Road

Traveling along a higher path isn't something I've considered part of my fate. That choice appears to me to require a kind of intuitive revelation which sacrafices diffuse being, for lack of better terms.

I can hardly think of a single moment when my haze of being hasn't been fairly dominant in the circumstances surrounding my travel process. After a little review of the situation however, I found that I do have some organizing aims which have become dormant and inactive. My conscience screams against this as a correctable violation of my heart.

I must include the rather humbling discovery that regardless of what remains a resource for a higher fate, my mechanicalness resists and opposes my interest in reactivating enthusiasm for my most valued aim in life. Instead of being depressed and clueless however, when the pain of my wretched state becomes overbearing I know in a minimally solid way how to succeed in overcoming that grey area. The essence of depression and its relation here for me has a lot to do with having no option or choice alternative to what otherwise has developed over time in my life as methods for escape.

Now, instead of escaping the confusing haze, I have a small map which I'm certain will take me far beyond and higher than I have ever gone.

And, it all seems very centered in consciously cultivating relationship networks, to both support my evolution and skill in interpersonal relations as well as expand my contacts which will then result in ever increasing happiness from an empowered state of fate.

It's What You Want

Hey...spent the weekend in a chill, as if anything is new around here to write about, right? Well, I did crack open a book called, The Radical Acceptance to Everything. It was a good echo or perspective on suffering and its offer on how to respond, to heal ourselves and others. I'm definitely going back for more.

I also spent a few minutes listening to some podcasts by a local Tantric Goddess (don't know all the particular distinctions in that disipline and study, so forgive me if she's called something else) named Devi, which brought me to a higher state above the bored and fearfully defeated state of apathy which I have been looking directly down the barrel at, more and more. That event horizon's darkness was as close in recent days as I've ever known it to be, and the little reading I did was spot on with respect to options and changing the direction of my being.

Small steps are still steps, they matter just as much as big steps. That's why it's important never to judge one's amount of progress in the negative, except in very very special cases having to do with turns and turnabouts, etc.

I heard from an old flame as well! I still love Stephie deeply, mostly for her grace and intelligence, but almost certainly as much for her feminine charm and poise. Her love helped me to withstand the loss of confidence in my aging mother. Maybe next week I will feel better and up to the task of yelling at her (mom) over the phone just so she can hear me. Sounds funny doesn't it, but if I don't yell she can't understand what I'm saying. She no longer writes or emails, communication, has all but ceased to take place between us.

To remember monuments in one's past which no longer exist in life has been a new mode for me lately, and I still haven't understood what I'm supposed to see or feel in regards to these kinds of memories. Mostly what I get is simply how different those earlier days were, and how opportune they were compared to what is taking place today. There is a balance to this however. The attitude which was missing then, I have begun to consciously develop today, even while the possibilities which they so deserve remain chained to my memory.

That's enough irony from this greybeard tonight. Peace and Love.

The non-expression of negativity

Anger wastes energy, our being, composes itself with ambient biological energies, though; capable of spiritualizing a soul through transforming energy, any wasted energies that our defects in character routinely and mechanically leak, should be understood unnecessary and opposed to one's real possibilities in this lifetime.

The true path of conscious evolution for man is through his learning to use his functions in a way to maximize what resources he has which may be applied and traded or consumed towards the goal of an evolution of self in higher consciousness.

I expect the reader to question just how much can be expected in the aftermath of any work aimed at precisely this goal, that of sorting out and healing the functions of our being, so that integrity is restored and energy isn't wasted. It's not easy to stop the wrong work of our being, to recover from negative expression in the expression of negativity but is easily one of the biggest steps towards the conservation of needless loss in our being, of energy needed to lay the foundation and bedrock to what's possible.

The only way to create higher being is through applying the energy for that higher being, available in raw form and limited quanitities, to our conscious self awareness, transforming it. The higher form of energy created using what little intent and attention we have to self-remember and contain what losses we are experiencing, allows for higher levels of consciousness which by definition must be based on non-mechanical being. For most of us this is a huge contradiction in terms as we 've grown up identifying our self and who we are with mechanical levels of the gross materiality as our soul passes through life since higher conscious levels are simply to hard to identify for the common individual.

However, without fail, most newborns forget who they are and any previous spiritual work and power they might have developed, and see themselves only in projections they make out in the world surrounding them with the help and guidance of their parents.

Through this process, such base levels of our energetic being bind and conentrate to form much higher potencies to start with, and also misunderstood and misused.  the given amounts of personal energy available for us and within us as we begin this work is quite small and incapable of being properly contained and consereved, especially in the beginning. My aim has nothing to do with sleep, or the drama of life which diverts the higher being from the brush fires that exist and about which not many care about or wish to provide any kind of solution for.

Transformation of our central energy of being takes time. Whereas, its loss can take place in a matter of moments with the right circumstances availalbe. At that time, sleep really does race to meet us, and our most important perspective in life, the condition of our work for pay can suffer wildly.

Over time, if one works well, the amount of effort required to maintain certain kinds of focus and attention consciously becomes noticeably smaller. The quanitity of energy we are focusing with our attention actually isn't becoming smaller but rather our personal power is rising.

Ultimately, our higher consciousness is a gift we receive from even greater heights of conscious being, while the energy transformations eventually go through a periodic cycling of storage before becoming needed or useful to our being's evolution. There are crossroads, grades, special needs and conditions requiring varying accumulations in order to leverage our progress as needed. These moments come in a harmonic accord with higher beings dedicated to our evolution and our based on what resources we have to meet such challenges as our pools of transformational resources are capable of. Successful challenges test the gain with loads quite outside but specific to internal structures of support. And, without the accumulated resources of transformation, our beings would lack what possibility they had at that moment for whatever powers of higher consciousness might be acquired.

So, we aim never to express negativity, and to succeed at this of course one first needs to understand negativity itself and just when and where how we express it as mechanical levels of being are fated to do. A careful examination will reveal an incredibly wasteful mechanical being for most people, which is entirely unknown, misunderstood and unconscious to them.

Yet Another Version Cue, Sticking in my Craw

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he had imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

Plugging Along

The only plug I have right now is my collection of chinese fine art. Other things I'm focusing on besides my little job at the golf course, don't really qualify as plugs or serious, even though I think I spend most of my time with them.

That will change soon if I want to see more progress in this lifetime. A new plug I have to add to the list is a program of recovery which might also be expressed as a support group or network, maybe including a personal coach or organization??

The obstacle to focus, in our life

The natural field of play that can be considered life, the contextual understanding includes everything encountered in process. What complicates and corrupts the inclusion requires a rigorous analysis in order for one's understanding to not suffer the same corruption possible.

The idea I have is to make distinct this dimension in the process as a source of disintegrative and negative influence or energy on the process as a whole while giving the opposite impression. How is this possible in nature? The idea that our minds and our best judgements cannot be fooled doesn't argue well in our defense against such possibilities. It is precisely this intrinsic flaw in our being which accounts for and supports the possibility of an obstacle, especially when compounded by our illusions and counterproductive responses.

One of the key notions making up the idea of 'the obstacle' is how often we choose to douse its metaphorical fire with gasoline out of an illusion giving us only the idea that there is some hope when our response lacks any clarity or committed action to resolution whatsoever. Such is the essence of corruption, it results from the misguided and undisciplined use of imagination, on every level, both for us mentally and also in a complimentary form belonging to the essence of nature itself.

I would offer a preliminary area to do your own inquiry into this subject for yourself, using addiction as the perspective on understanding with the focus squarely angled towards what essentially generates the obstacle at its worst, essentially by our own failure to recognize the mistake of our own responsible for our condition of suffering.<

Focus of Tennis

Watching the Austrailian Open 2009 Men's Final between Nadal and Federer takes you into a dimension of focus requiring stamina. The quest of life however is not so different, just currently lacking in focus but making up for that with ever increasing stamina (longevity).

The real choice of ours is whether we balance focus for ourselves in life.

Branden's Heroism

One of the forms of psychological heroism that builds self-esteem is the willingness to tolerate anxiety and uncertainty in the pursuit of your values-whether those values be work goals, the love of another human being, raising a family, or personal growth.

– Nathaniel Branden

Hymn to Angel SLP

Ooooh the sound of intoxicating suds
so needed then and more-so now
least considered keeps a door closed
the opening of which is chosen.

you say that its affordable
the feeling of guilt by association
encompasses the idea under what if
and shall I explain or not.

Our mind's eye pays in pain
so our lives relieve a shadow
where the brightness of the sun
finds a place of nearness to us.

Let her come by, for a peekaboo
but don't be surprised, who shows.
Awakened by a nurse must be positive.
It's the doctors you need to avoid.

Understanding how angels only serve
after being convinced their snots.
Adorably difficult right in private,
helping us to get back on our feet...

2009.1

Pursuing Deeper Insights

There is no question of the value being high no matter what the dimension one is considering when thinking of deeper insight and its pursuit. Without it, one's work is necessarily limited by the lack of growth associated and promoted by insights. There are managing issues however, in that while deeper insights are being acquired or expressed, time for work stops while the activity of the mind works down a different dimension.

A meta-state emphasizes deeper insight is limited by mechanics in the psyche, which not only limits their field of inquiry but produces interpretative results which are consistent and resonate the past scripting in order to maintain some degree of "connection with ???" An immeasurable difference exists between insight and deep-insight which represents the power of consciousness penetrating levels of being which have no limits, while still shrouded by the ultimate mysteries of life. Deep insight is consciousness accessing new levels and structures of information there with clarity and also instantaneous understanding, helping the spirit, increasing its power, raising how far one's consciousness can reach, and leaving behind great impressions which help our imprints and memories better than associative linking and intellectual math concerning the world which orders our experience as much as can possibly be done without overwhelming our presence.

So, depending on priorities and deadlines, insights and the meta work required to produce them should be pursued with the goal being a specific balance and let insight itself help determine this schedule, as it rightfully should.

Deeper insight can kill the unprepared and ordinary individual, dead in their tracks, if allowed to confront a man with such understandings of truth which are ours to heed and follow through with. There deadliness consists in revealing in the most factual basic way the emptiness of ordinary existence to the point of invalidating it completely. Unless a man is prepared to accept the consequences and has some beginning kernel of faith in what knowledge and teaching exists to help him mature and grow into a more complete level of being, beyond this mechanical and meaningless void, he is no different than a man sitting on death row without any further social contact to lighten his day because his days are endding, and in some very real way never began and to the depth and degree of the insight's scope finds how little is expected to ever come or happen from his concern and/or work towards existing on a higher level of consciousness.

ACTION as my ground of being, may remain forever, never to lose power, so great.

Can you sing and be happy while the sharks circle and whisper in your ear of their craving and hunger, even while they announce that their respect for you will not stop them from tearing you apart as soon as the circumstances warrant? When you can calmly float, and stare them down because your happiness has transformed your very existence into existence itself, and your soul remains to acquiesce the risk by virtue of the quality of irrisistence higher love inspires in all who come near.

And, because you recognize the benevolent power and satisfaction there is in giving to other life, still imprisoned by their destructive and unenlightened limits, your best and most open invitation to realize happiness itself, the communion of life energy that happy infects every contact with a higher purpose and path, destined with a renewed level of hope and a fate to reflect what light they were allowed when love smiled from on high.

Because happiness blesses us, finding it sufficient then frees our latent possibility to evolve naturally, for our nature is expressed happily at its complete best. Being responsible for this condition and state involves allowing one possibility to remain a mystery, though the rest of the world is ours to create and discover, the source of our own being is not.

Happiness begets true mystery. Faith is that legacy our cultural past gives us and continues to remain the most effective social sanctuary where men are educated spiritually though rarely succeeding in getting clear at all and of course all that comes with enlightened being and the freedom one finds inside to take one freely along in the outside world, naturally.

The mythologic architecture has its symbolic roots in the conscious source of truth in the final analysis which is the only real reason religion continues to exist as it does today even while expressing in those who attend to its abundant and endless streams of radiant possibilities the worst evils and in fact the highest antithesis of that source from which religion's cornerstone of faith was first manifest for our spiritual purpose.

The Ramones

Spent just over 20 years as trailer park troubadours, never fully succeeding, finding a harsh complex mix of life and alot of opposition from the establishment. Their anarchist philosophy was a beacon to the young and disenfranchised as they reached out to the world and resisted compromising their sound and identity for anyone. Their simplicity and lack of polish created immediate access to a wide and sorely left out fan base who found new strength and will in their presence. To catch their act was to find oneself in awe of what is possible if only one cares enough to go out and face the day.

The recent documentary of interviews portrayed a reality which caught both the sparkle and shine and also the shadows and grime, in an opne and honest way. Very settling to get to watch this morning and if you haven't seen the film on this band airing currently on one of premium channels like HBO or SHO, do yourself a favor and take the time to listen to these people talk about each other and the band to get a flavor of a true American pop musical group's legacy.

One for the Books

It Takes a Highrise to Raise a Child

The design, perfects the argument.
And, plenty exist against a highrise
especially those who desire a village.
Yet, to hear another close by, works.

The magic of nature's omnipresence
seconds man's consciousness of it.
In designed close proximity to man,
is deepest look made into his nature.

The value is an extension and destined.
Evolution necessitates this for survival
as the most reasonable, logical means.
Awake to others is awakening to oneself.

Well designed, a highrise is most natural
Always present to remind you the truth
Like the first telescope used by Gallileo,
any telescope will commonly persuade.

Listen to the soft ramblings of a child
in your introspective eveningtide, aha!
You begin to hear the truth come near,
no purer form of conversation exists.

IBD/2008

Middle Aged Gut Check

Did you hear me whine the last time I was here?
All intel calculates the real before an account says.
Just in, email says I'm $2.5m lotto winner, no lie.
Every offer includes similar lies of variable degree
within all commerce, most especially the retail end.

What about accounting for this economic plight?
The Psychology of Lying states an understanding -
not a method for quantifying, that would be sick.
Only reason to know impact of our lying products
is to rehabilitate consciences that might yet exist.

So then, promised a gut check, I gave you clarity
to the whine, and the design reconciled backend.
The Gut Check, afterthought, today made, comes
in view of a harmonic peaceful humanity envisioned
on how it would be, the ways and means possible.

I stipulate human error and mistakes, justice remains.
Yet as office and power dictate and provide, each of us
our interest must somehow become inspired by this:
Whatever harms naturally, costs the perpetrator love.
Nothing here matters if not for love as the one source.

rjd 9/2008

Middle Age Weirds Ideas (working draft)

Knowing this space I occupy is one with All-Space,
means understanding the relevant essence between
and how All-Space ceases to exist without myspace,
for one. Though I can't see infinity, eternity is nearer.
Once sacred ideas, science is poised to eliminate them
as facts, and without relevance, truer reasons might
measure reality of universe again, with more heart
not less. Absolutes, transcending relevance, was faith
cheating by unscrupulous politics and oppression
as natural of its true influence on human society?

There doesn't yet exist a healthy structure for man
within any society, to contribute value he seeks
thus society remains a fabric of man qua man links
at best, and decisions that define boundaries beyond
our reach, our consciousness, as we believe in voting
in ballots with a majority always the final ruling
over rest, winners over losers, an ironic fact in that
the smallest number always speak for greatest
and without a better idea we hang on to this farce.

Just like religion and less and less science, is this;
that our relevant understanding is completely false
while fact and faith are true possibilities, ideals now;
our knowledge is not active or operational, just belief.
And, ALL belief is foreign, adopted, alien, inauthentic
while original thought has quite the difference in flavor.
So while we in fact vote, we don't vote our own, do we?
It's multiple choice, with arbitrary write-ins ignored.

So, democracy has failed, while founding ideas remain
somehow providing individuals more than belief, hence;
social activism has brought us face to face razing the fence.
And, despite contest of loser's opinions evolving some
the promise fulfilled is purely circumstantial, most miss.
Real evolution, substantial and profound, will require
as many who vote, to suddenly think for themselves
recognize and maybe rally around new idea of governance.

This call then is to all the Ayn Rands, Einsteins, Emersons
alive today, to begin their epic works, and finish, I hope.
I speak in the darkness, though so many have my heart.
Clearly, the numbers as I've presented them don't compute,
don't equate, yet what other route does mankind have left?
Clearly, democracy isn't up to preserving individual liberty
when it's corruptd by those in power and opposing beliefs -
Scarcity, supremacy, cultural isolation, closed mindedness.

But, if not democracy, no ballot to cast our vote, then what?
The answer lies in economic theory and thought, I believe.
Only because, unlike political ideology and governments,
it actually takes account of facts without intrinsic bias,
except those elegantly and simply proven scientifically.
Obviously, here is where this man and Faith separate.
For faith, what's important is recycling every day's events
back into a narrative which is apocalyptic and mythologic.
For me, evolving my being needs honest accounting, to start.

Start speaking, paying your debt, invest, or gamble
until the horizon's fog bank clears its all the same act.
I have no reconciled statement, though alot of red belief.
My beginning will be to integrate higher philosophy
into my economical and financial accounting method,
and explore, leaving everything in play, sitting not.
In short, liquidate, consolidate, and capitalize; be fit.

9/2008, rjd

~For 50 Years Now

Found the woman I've been dreaming of
still putting the pieces together from last one
she was a Timex, I smashed against a tile.
My idea of lickin' was more than mistaken,
a dangerous key, made some sexy debris.

Each day luggs a few pieces I've kept along.
Countless times, I tried and failed the re-fit.
My ritual for recovery of truth, the love lost
by meditation, left over dust is swept to bin
so dream-flame has to ignite and not shatter

my broken heart

A suffering illusion I find or don't, shot out 22
only to have myself picked, served, and trashed
her guilt this time must be framed in my insanity.
Nobody can be wrong so many times, so many ways
about anything, as I have about the ways of women.

to question eye to eye, why love was never enough
to stop her from the decision to abandon me
doesn't happen because so far she's not been honest enough
abandoned by dreamlove, I imagine my insanity growing.

This last time was easier on my physical being but
knowing exactly how little faith and trust her lies concealed
the lying, the contemplated options, just dumping midstream
what reason extends for all before the split aiming to ruin
my happiness?

brutality of betrayal

each bout of illness, love's fever
unhooks all the edges where I hemorrhage
landing me a target for next bus to force what is my
misfortune, so unlucky enough to drop too much
to quickly to roll over under tires near bus stop.
This ICU has brought me closer and closer
to finding that woman, the challenge of heart
so close I know she's hiding, in bit of acting
I saw my dreamflame's twin, scorched mystery
she vanishes in, and the intensity left behind.

There's no denying this debris was my princess
I dreamed and dedicated with faith in truest love.
my timex test
which has kept my romantic dream alive
pinned on a childish belief in Santa Claus.

Pushing pile of rubble into a balled up wreck
as an homage to the dream girl I feel, thru
my illusion, the insanity, how she always runs
and for all 50 years now.

2008 summer on the pier

Love Math

Amid the points of permanence
our identity speaks for itself
a voice of essence, independence.

With a different voice was reason
built, a continuum in balance
and its polarity of transcendence.

Does this zero denominate a kiss
of two lovers we sacrafice, risk;
gain relation, seek infinite center.

The bizarre happens by illusion
when the voice has no listener
or speaks, insincerity believed.

But love, unbounded openness
in its honesty, heard in its song,
clears a space where two unite.

So many points go distant, by
what manner for love's desire
shall unity express itself nigh.

Battle Serious

Do you feel a mystery
as a rank recurring rhythm
that answers fail to question
what remains extant in time?

Does the pain building
felt in feeling, privately dreading
in the night shade coming
shake your slumber then?

This instinctive home sucks
and all and everything, mucks
by and large, by certain thought
when our own habits command.

Understanding it doesn't help
or I would feel no pain now.
Would somebody help correct
path to self, as battle, but serious?

rjd

Things I cannot touch

What touches anything, touches this.
Things I cannot touch, sung on a hilltop
one might find closer more than enough.
While our quick dalliances pique upbeats,
it's the clean self reflected so naturally,
where nature holds special places for us
we never knew, or could, to touch;
touching us, but not us, we touch.

Ask the touching fingers, better yet
what they cannot touch, for answers
we see in life of fish living underwater,
touching water in some greater way
isn't the truth in reverse, a paradox?
Most fish are oblivious and ignorant,
never touching what touches them all.

Where anything expands or contains
just beyond the last stop of mind
this measures in permanent fashion
everything untouchable somehow, not
the shock and awe parlay of our drama
that could just as well conceal pride,
narcissitic boneheading, and denial.
Just because one ignores willingly
doesn't mean never-ever is reality.

IBDubie/6/2008

You Who Never Arrived

Pre: Stumbled over a collection of Rilke tonight and found, You Who Never Arrived, speaking loud enough for me to resonate tonight's version...



There where you remain hidden unseen by me
Your arrival made a bed for my dreams, a fast.
My noon hour pause is one long look and beat
left behind when innocence chased hearts away
singing in patient adoration by window's edge.

A looking where nothing is recognized beyond
your immensity, a paradox that overwhelms.

this space I know, longing

but far-off, deeply-felt ground echoes in mind.
The space for your being is breath I so inhale
for promise, lost from the start, that eludes me.
As you still vanish behind dizzy gaze of corner.

6/2008, rjduberg

Today's Gift

I stopped late in life ...
to look at memories fading less
and gaining ground over the crest
laid on us all like the hand of time.

There's no horror equal or real
to finding what's been, turn back round
your lying, the intent, chasing you down
never letting up, cresting repentance.

Failing your humble understanding of this
how your very soul will haunt you 'til death
creates personal scrooges for some, and I.
I seek forgiving counsel from all I've done in.

And, you see, though the past fades
we can never pretend anything ends.
What I've dispatched, reasons aside,
took an injurious force, my lies a farce lid.

Save me enough time to right my wrongs
and count on me for everything else
you've come to know and trust me for.
... before growing wise was enough.

5/2008, rjduberg

Too Pop Too

How big a lie is our stake in this moment?
Our biggest is expressed possessively, mine.
Is stepping forward into hero's recognition
meeting a soul-mate, giving to the poor?
Life without a moment is beyond our sense.
Will anyone renew life's vital source or remains
by living well this time, free and loving?

When sincerity travels to humility, time ends.
Moments unify and life is only a bigger mystery.
Further on, the roll stops in an upward rise.
Our true stake is language, the tool of relation.
Nothing survives unless we keep all things equal.
Juggling words is a spiritual art for these fliers,
where used and discarded never slows down.

For those who spoke up for me when I forgot this
you live for this bollox and its bloody endlessness.
Recycling energy, and the silence of time, these
are warrants offered that lay waiting for what lies.
How dull today, how bloody awful and tired, what
can make this discrete two pop into one mind?

5/2008, rjd

Comment Graphics and Myspace Layouts at pYzam.com

~Light of Otherwise

I have committed acts, walked naked by choice
outside in the dark blanket of heavy snowfall.
That rosy path, with thorns of wrath, our nemesis...

I know I've stumbled upon it so many times
it no longer shocks me to lose my mind.
Nobody is safe from the demons of sleep.

I've less strength than ever, to stay awake
for being eternal; that, and nothing less,
resolves the issue in a balanced polarity.

Victims like confusion with loss of function
which doesn't get noticed; while false engages
everyone with horror, blinders hasten the decline.

Excuses and complaints form this path to hell.
Our worst denigration, groggy sleep, its passage.
Logic suggests non-dualism stops bleeding, rose.

I endlessly search for such mental expedience,
for consolidating mountains of debt, past due;
without any promise my home is where I left it.

In the seizing of every moment to purely act,
never running from consequences, this creativity
describes being, a force and influence; learning.

Purity of truth defies all common sense attempts
in response to limiting hell, by not venturing back
across boundaries while keeping an eye on fence.

A fence separating our lives from being identified,
summarizing life's memory and its influence here
to choice, the act, and our escape from mechanical.

Evolution's Ghost walks the bloody rose lane to death.

As long as I do not go to sleep and observe opposition
taking my best shots at finding orbits' flat burn release.
When that opportunity comes, the choice will be made.

Keep teaching yourself to turn along with the world;
if persistent, one's roll will eventually preside inside
as grandest map possible, paid in thorn's pricking pain.

There's no simple way to say non-word of eternal light.
Neither word can be heard, nor shadow of light seen.
So it goes... words from elsewhere light the otherwise.

5/10/2008, rjd

~The Spiral

What could that possibly mean about writing for me
to say that finding freedom in rhetorical expression
is central and or at the core of my poetry's aesthetic?

When use of rhetorical style becomes a habit of pursuit
perhaps freedom is lost much like mileage to gas hike,
knowing freedom's purchase requires higher resources
relativity at work in the most basic sense, felt as free.

But not...

And to maintain freedom in one's life evolves a process
with another degree of will signaling an actual potential
and applying that will, effectively, gains a right to surreal.

Freedom is an interpretation about higher awareness
when focus finds chaos decreasing in rise of certainty
leveling odds create circumstance resonating harmony.

Oddly enough, it is precisely in this situation of freedom
where the only result can be reversal of such fortune.
and so it goes... with perfect ascension's formal spiral.

5/2008, rjd

Poems about my Love

Choking on It

Choking on what thought,
the chemistry of love on top,
those molecules and this chaos
they wrought, scat, in the backyard,
so used and thrashed.

A single's work cleaning the litter,
leveling the ground, in cooling endorphins,
and wafts of air stale with memory,
and tuneless whistling.

So what, you say; with your shadow in place
lifting instruments to play virtuosic riffs a bit,
in front of locked-down stores lining the street.
You have quit believing that there's more, but
still stirred, enough to stop, and wait, listening hard.

-Rewritten work of found poem by Kim Addonizio

And then by Andre Breton....

Always for the First Time

Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window
A wholly imaginary house
It is there that from one second to the next
In the inviolate darkness
I anticipate once more the fascinating rift occurring
The one and only rift
In the facade and in my heart
The closer I come to you
In reality
The more the key sings at the door of the unknown room
Where you appear alone before me
At first you coalesce entirely with the brightness
The elusive angle of a curtain
It's a field of jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of Grasse
With the diagonal slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised
In a frenzy all the flowers swarm back in
It is you at grips with that too long hour never dim enough until sleep
You as though you could be
The same except that I shall perhaps never meet you
You pretend not to know I am watching you
Marvelously I am no longer sure you know
Your idleness brings tears to my eyes
A swarm of interpretations surrounds each of your gestures
It's a honeydew hunt
There are rocking chairs on a deck there are branches that may well scratch you in the forest
There are in a shop window in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette
Two lovely crossed legs caught in long stockings
Flaring out in the center of a great white clover
There is a silken ladder rolled out over the ivy
There is
By my leaning over the precipice
Of your presence and your absence in hopeless fusion
My finding the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time

~Return From Summit

I heard said, reaching the summit,
when no summit I had ever seen,
left a wake descending complete.

This truth returns nay but why?
When the uncommon rides high
does a descent fulfill the stride?

Years climbing in apparent futility
have I daily felt pinnacle's peak
only to stop when at the top.

Something I forgot surfaced today
nothing achieved is overcome
unless returned level with love.

We see what we find and forget
never returning endowed possibility
to place depth where surface lies.

4/2008, rjduberg

~Ode to Oxy

Pream: Confused and considering the strophe, antistrophe, epode idea, I penned this, but wish to stipulate to its vagueness. Perhaps, I shouldn't have shared/posted it.

~
The variance of your reply, the skew and difference
set upon the express summary by timed default
inspires just one impulse in my sea of madness.

I will never stop paddling around, despite the odds.
While fluidity has its own science and religiosity
the art requires a dimensional aesthetic, a break.

Look for good maps and remote locations
Stock up necessary resources and head there.
For nothing is remembered as well as being there.

4/2008, rjd

~Along with Less than That

On the face, there was suddenly a place
a spot on which my hand raced
turning the dials about.

Not like a bell, but twilight at dawn
this place grew strong
from inside.

When points in references reached
on latest maps detailing something odd perhaps
they do not steel my provicincy and commitment

The teardrop is something I have patience for
nobody else seems to find so disturbing, if I may know.

map includes horizons and plots for each other 3 shots
pictures of my internam, hard and soft target overviews or discussions are find be yond anyone's ability to make me here. If there is any link in to situation to speak with them. Not sure what that need is to be closer with my ability to access the car taking or emerging with a mean ready to go so I don't have to continue driving tonight.

Gonna start with laundry I guess ... Bye!!


and my hand points it there.

5/2008, rjd

Vignette about Family Estate Karma

I can imagine writing a scene in a novel or book about you and I and this life. We’re revisiting the Duberg estate, in the country made up of family estates, a kind of spiritual repository of karma which is so tightly knitted together for us in our relations to our families. We stroll through the gate, the grounds, the house, reminisce about everything left as recorded history in displays mounted on walls and other types of artifacts, and then making our way through garden and backyard in a far corner of the land we come to an old well, barely visible for never being maintained or used. We’re kids, leaning over the wall, peering into the blackness, and I ask (semi-rhetorically now), how far down does it go (posing with a rock in my hand, prepared to let it drop) and you grab my wrist with this look of utter horror on your face, and you say, “You don’t want to know!” The look just paralyzes me, but your consternation melts into a comforting whisp of a smile, reminding me of how much more you’ve suffered on this spot, and I realize such wisdom is priceless and never to be ignored. This doesn’t extinguish my natural curiosity so compounded by the fact of my karmic inheritance which is some sense being incarcerated and thus limited or constrained; by itself, undeserving and unjust.

You release your grip and I let my hand fall to my side, the rock I toss aside, and then turn and glance back at the blackness with only patience in mind. We shall see then, how this all plays out. We begin our hike back to the estate’s compound with you rambling on about how one day all this will be mowed under and landscaped with a fresh grove of trees, going over some list in your head, the pros and cons, and all I can think about and wonder is which one might be least conductive of the demonic. For who knows just what doorways exist in blackness so deep, through which the nightmares of babes might wake up the curse of this karmic unrest once again?

As we close in on the garden and our senses are awash in a phalanx of spring fragrant sprouting, we turn outward and receptive to the primeval beauty of love’s light. Nothing is forgotten, especially buried secrets which are still so black. ~

~But Wait

For the lithe, supple, breathing
a child at play, blends fantastic,
over the falls of words sacraficed...

But wait...

This current of words flows not
but is stopping, being held anon
here, a small pittance with love.

I'm starved instead by such joy,
but would have nothing anyway
but useless hollow flabiness.

3/2008, rjd

~What is HER Problem?

I'm now convinced it matters more
my discontinuous view of amore
not because losing to this flow
happened, but that it won't stop.

The profundity of loss is lost here.
Am I the only victim of this travesty?
Or, as she thought selfishly, suggesting?
Like asking why God kills the innocent!

Past this connumdrum, personal issues
and all... nothing changes this process
where love for me was once continous
stopped, and became solidly discontinuous.

OK, maybe for you it's different,
self-improvement as narrative focus
still remains as gravity for most of us
and yet, what is HER problem?

3/2008, rjd

PS: Unless I offend please understand that what I'm closing here with is a very sketchy (to give perspective to plain I guess) way of expressing feminine dominance as a central and coalescing influence which any story about what would improve being alive necessarily focuses on.

Please don't limit your notion of feminine dominance to some kind of socio-sexual stereotype to avoid the offense. Clearly, this is my assertion about the ISSUE or subject which I'm referring to innocuously yet at the same time saying is singular and continuous among all categorically similar narratives per se, negative or positive.

I wish my thesis wasn't so weakly put, but its a start I think for now .