Feeling the Crest of a Wave

All the signals, facts, circumstances which I'm finding in my process of discovery associated with a healer I've chosen and the spiritual disipline of tantra itself are amazingly synchronous and overwhelmingly symbolic for a major transformation in my life. I'm still carrying around the baggage of my past failed love affairs at this time however, and will continue to do so until I get to spend some time with Ariel and determine the reality of what she may or may not have to offer me. The resurgence of hope is always a bad sign I think, one to signal a careful examination of to just what degree mechanical mind is responding to the idea of leaving behind this desert in my existence.

After spending several days now researching many different points of view about Tantra, I have the impression that it could very easily be the best next step for me to traverse given its focus on the male female sexual union as primary and at the core of what is spiritually possible. I have to admit though to having some fairly permament resistence to the elements making up its history, a story which is a overdramatized metaphor for the insights and realizations which together went into that body of wisdom at that time.

Ariel is the most beautiful goddess I've encountered yet, all fresh and innocent, and clearly not expressing her creativity over the top, oversaturation seems so much of the time to be part of the female model. Anyway, I have nothing else yet on tap as far as self development, AND this is really something I can't afford to correct but haven't a clue about as yet, for now.

My Answer to Marketing

In response to a marketers claim that they need to stop overwhelming social networks with marketing and lead in with relaxed just be yourself method, as his good idea for how to be better a marketer, my answer was this...

Sounds like code for "Don't Let them see you coming!" Someone earlier was observant when they talked about being context sensitive, and your idea certainly tries to slip on that hat, except the reality seems to still remain that of trying to pound a square peg in a round hole.

I don't have a solution here for ya, but I'm very clear that marketing doesn't work for me, especially on the web. The communications are uninvited, unwanted, invasive, and hiding all kinds of unwanted attachments and probes, etc., etc. that rob me of my liberties.

Any honest assessment over the evolution in web technologies will immediately reveal that what was in ithe beginning a true breakthrough for humanity, creating the space for their personal communications to global, it has long since been bought and turned by corporate greed and corruption.

Your like the original gangsters who would pop in to collect and exhort monies, calling it protection money. That's a clear violation of freedom, and I don't see any difference between that and what drives and ultimately produces today's web UI.

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.