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I am too careful with my heart and neurotic with my sex. I still hold vestiges of crippling sexual guilt that burden my passion. Though I know now that the love in the heart is inexpendable, as I am just a conduit of the stuff, I am careful with connecting to others. I fear their mismanagement of my love. But it is not my love. If I’m just conducting love from its limitless source what the hell should I care what others do with it. If they mishandle it, it’ll just find ground like an electrical current – no filament will be lit. But if they conduct it with me, in a series circuit, both filaments will light and the surrounding environ will be revealed.
Sex is a device, an act of coupling this current. It manifests the circuit creating a single filament capable of incomprehensible luminance. Perhaps I fear this light. I look at the sun and I fear blindness.
I think that I should cultivate my sexual energy by harmonizing with someone. I assume that much practice should occur before harmony is fluent. I refer to spending time with someone harmonizing in conversation, movement, patience, accord, … But what if I detect a harmony right off? What if there is no need for slow cultivation with a certain partner as both are already rhythmic or syncopating? Why should I temper that?

When I’ve “given love” I’ve often only been investing interest and germinating a fear for losing my investment. My “love” has really just been a vice of selfish desire to receive and maintain ‘love’ from someone else. It’s not my love to give, not my love to hold. I am not a vessel but a conductor awaiting an impulse to conduct with as little resistance as possible, like gold in an electrical circuit. I am not responsible for generating or maintaining nor amplifying the spark; just properly conducting it.
So what do I fear in my engagement with others?
I must resolve with this force and respect it’s autonomy. I must renounce any responsibility for it’s cultivation. I must only concern myself with the maintenance of my own being as a conduit of low resistance, a filament. As a good conductor I must be careful not to “shock” others if they are not ready, and careful not to be shocked if I am not ready – I must exercise good electrical etiquette.
I mustn’t fear the end of love for there is not end, just change in form. Read the rest of this post or comment »

The atoms of the human body are in constant vibration. Unceasing changes are occurring. In a few months there is almost a complete change in the matter composing the body, and scarcely a single atom now composing your body will be found in it a few mouths hence. Vibration, constant vibration. Change, constant change.
In all vibration is to be found a certain rhythm. Rhythm pervades the universe. The swing of the planets around the sun; the rise and fall of the sea; the beating of the heart; the ebb and flow of the tide; all follow rhythmic laws. The rays of the sun reach us; the rain descends upon us, in obedience to the same law. All growth is but an exhibition of this law. All motion is a manifestation of the law of rhythm.

-excerpted from a book titled "Hatha Yoga - The Yoga Philosophy of Physical Well-being" by Yogi Ramacharaka

Nothing is solid
form giving way to fluid
wading in color

Much social anxiety has come from not knowing or not admiting to myself that I want to make love to everyone that I meet. Not always to make love with my penis but always to consume, be consumed by, convene with, become one another. Not to become by loosing self but by conjoining. This feeling (need) is common during childhood. Though, with age, it is associated only with the sex act that is in turn made illiccit, scandalous, immorral, shameful. My need to be one with the universe, one with others has been perverted by sexual guilt.

A Bird Aloof
Natasha mentioned to me that she would like to work with the image of bird migrations for our piece. Immediately I renderred a memory of driving out to the Everglades with my father to watch the convention of birds of all colors shapes and sizes that would assemble on or around knolls of cypress, bromeliads, sabal palms, and slash pines. The park is sometimes refered to as the river of grass - it's a ninety mile wide swamp occasionally interrupted by one of these oases that served for this short of the year as an elaborately diverse perch for the flocks. We sat for hours combing the skies making sure not to miss the arrival of a new group. From our perspective we could see groups approaching from the distance in any direction. The sky is a dome in the short grass of the Everglades. The birds arrived in formation, descending into a squacking mess as they each found their own perch in the knolls. Once perched, an hour of greetings would occur with an occasional renegade bird ascending as if to survey the group. Eventually a calm would fall and the birds were inditinguishable from the knoll.

At the end of one of our trips to the grassriver, we encountered a wounded kestrel falcon. It had broken its wing. We took it home and mended it. He held domain of our living room for about a month, protesting the whole time about his captivity or the fact that we, with our "good intentions", forfeit his opportunity to die. Once his wing looked well, we returned to the Everglades to release him. My father and I got quite clawed up on the drive over. When we got to the location where we found him we opened all the car doors to invite him out. He stumbled out of the passenger side, looked around, flapped, caught some air to test, then soared off. Immediately he found a mate, a friend, or a familiar face circling in opposition. They screeched at eachother, not in offence or warning, but in reverence. He came back down for a moment and landed in front of my father and I, spread his wings as if in gratitude, and soared off again.
We drove back home.

What of this occasional tickle
I pray that now you not be fickle

If my vision were scrambled, my eyes mashed leaving the retina intact, I would still see her. I was excited by this. We came close and stayed close for many years building a tower as a perch for us to rule from (rule only our eyes and their objects). Once it was built we climbed, glimpsed about, and destroyed it beneath us.
Naturally, gravity recalled it's claim on our bodies evidenced by bruises, gashes, and bones broken.
So we continue. Read the rest of this post or comment »

It is simple.
It is not easy.
It is not easy
It is good.

to stay still
in a place
for many moments
for no reason

Boredom occurs when there’s nothing to do. After boredom one may realize that to do nothing is just fine. New somethings emerge, different from the many somethings observed in activities. The somethings that emerge from nothing are simply what they are and nothing else, nothing otherwise. They don’t emerge from memory or judgment or supposition or intellect or prediction - just from nothing. So these emergent somethings are actual and present. We may capture some of them with a camera.

Sometimes it’s difficult to do nothing; difficult to prevent the anxiety of boredom from compelling one to entertainment, activity, or neuroses. Any pause in activity can reveal a loud muttering of directionless thoughts begging for appointment. It’s ok - we can just let it tire itself out. Then all the accidents of life can be noticed.

A method for achieving the state just past boredom:

• Stop
• breathe
• let the mind attack - this is when you hear all the shit - we're all dirty, lazy, paranoid, judgmental, spontaneous, neurotic, and loving.
• get past it
• drift
• something(s) emerges
• notice it - find its rhythm
• breathe
• record

There is nothing but there is something. Something emerges from nothing. Form emerges from chaos, light from darkness. Darkness is simple - it simply isn’t. As an adolescent I used to stay up late. I would draw the curtains for most of the day - I had blackout curtains that sealed the windows. I would sit in silence for hours listening for the emptiness that came after the hum that followed the ringing. I tried to hold it or I wanted it to hold me. I didn’t want to die ( I was one of the few of my peers that wasn’t suicidal) but I wanted the stillness, the calm, the effortlessness, the vacancy of death.
I couldn’t have it.
My eyes remained open.
So I revered the nothing - That great void from which all flows then ebbs. I resented the many tricks that light would play on my empty soul. I set out to destroy, to disrupt, to discredit, to disassemble. Intellect would help me prove that everything is really nothing - I intended to disprove everything.
I broke. Read the rest of this post or comment »

The legend of the Vegetable Lamb goes back as far as the year 436, and it tells the tale of a plant that grew living lambs as if they were flowers. According to the legend, the lambs were able to bend down and eat the plants surrounding it and were thus able to feed themselves for a while. Once all the surrounding plants had been munched away, the poor little lambs shrivelled up and died, that is if they didn’t get devoured by a wolf first.

Read the rest of this post or comment »

My life is better since i started spending more of it upside down

god is a mirage formed by the stratification of being.

abandonment
exhaustion
disappointment
compromise
jealousy?
vanity
hedonism
paternity
responsibility
expectations
conformity
fear
debt
freedom
autonomy
resentment
judgment
there's a squirrel on my bike
lust
sex
children
humiliation
emasculation
reaction
vulnerability
anxiety
health
will
monogamy
restriction
method
reason
chaos
love
captivity
manipulation
creation
to hold a moment/feeling/state
to attempt to reproduce it
the squirrel was standing
gentle mental
conscious vs. self-conscious
am
is
wrong/right
emergence
stillness
nothing

co-empiricism
sharing vs. giving vs. doing vs. being
good.

love
feelings of guilt
hatred
sorrow
regret
fear
attachment
love
devotion
explosion

One of the sections of the pig & pig website during development -
Content Management Systems

What is a content management system? It is a thing that is really cool and really fly. It is like a booger in your butt. It is the best stupid thing of the stupid things. I love it, personally. It is both the best and the worst simultaneously. Actually it isn't that great but it's good. Well, it kinda sucks. It's really shitty. I hate it. I hate you. My god! This is hell. What am I doing here? It's not too bad. Acutually I don't mind it. It's pretty cool. This is rather pleasant. It's great. I'm happy.

The bike path was fogged. I killed many light bugs by going fast. The mist poured over the bridge. I almost hit a man.