The Mountain Speaks

View from Pike's Peak, Colorado, USA

Huddled low within the snow,
wind whipped into a freshened storm,
becoming what the climber knew,
would drink of all he knew as warm.

Drifting mem’ries from far below,
a house and home across the sea,
where summer winds would beckon him,
to come and lift his spirit free.

In dizzied heights and slowly climb,
a mountainside – no two the same.
Not some foreign place to wander …
each holy place, without a name.

Against the sky where angels tread,
this was where true love was found.
Stepping slowly, reach the summit,
stand in awe, then turn around.

But ah! descent a lasting measure,
time to savor a journey’s end,
and trace the trail with certainty,
now his weight – a hand to lend.

Recall the granite face of God,
smiling brightly meant life is good,
but if it frowns and shadows roll,
His temper must be understood.

For creeping o’er the ragged peaks,
unbridled wind from a distant sea,
leaves sculptures frozen on the peaks,
then cascades onward to be free.

And having left this crystal palace,
in blankets o’er the rock and bone,
spirits will gather on the mountain,
to take a heedless climber home.

a day un-started

dodekanissaweb.gr/mainland/acropolis.html

I thought you were leaving
thought you were done
got the impression
you couldn’t go on

Again the refrain
the frozen remains
of the heart left
still by the road

flights into fancy
and flights returned home
can’t seem to remember
the promises made

the moment was parted
the day was un-started
the dreams less than any
we felt we could bare

love less than ever
time lost in never
a sunset remaining
undone by the moon

jealous the blame
fear for the future
love finds you lost
in the ruins you roam

My Father’s Eyes

Why was it that I came into your house,
that I chose to live there within your life.
A child of such questions, dreams, and visions,
longings, expressions, and uncertainties?

What was the rush I made back into,
a time and a place in a cold world war.
Those ever present and changing times,
the fifties, the bombers coursing the sky?

I knew there were tools you held in your hands,
for of some fascination I’m sure I did find .
That growing you taught me the value of iron,
and hard work had reasons, it’s just what we did.

Older than the rest of all my friend’s fathers.
We didn’t run much, mostly watched the ball games.
But I still feel the warmth as your hands held my feet,
that felt frozen that eve picking mussels at the shore.

Frustration began as I grew and I learned,
that all of the answers just weren’t yours to give,
and I’d need to begin to make my own way,
building a living within this wide world.

You seemed disappointed when I left for school,
shaking my hand and wishing me well.
As if you knew something I’d soon discover,
that where I was going I wouldn’t fit in.

Later this dropout was earning a living,
and with pride on your face you’d always stop in.
Sharing your stories of beer trucks and women,
my own tools in hand then, I saw what you knew.

Life’s about choices not where you are going,
you did the best that you knew and left me to learn.
In my own separate way, yet watching me always,
caring in quiet and sharing your bread.

I remember you cried when you heard about Noreen.
I remember you told me to pay all my debts.
I remember you died all alone that Easter,
while my car needed water on the way to your room.

So what have I learned to share with my children –
We should never let go till tomorrow,
the things that need fixing right now,
whether faucets that leak, or hearts on the brink.

That love is not always words that are spoken,
but something that always is felt none the less.
And now when they look in my steely blue eyes
they’ll see your reflection of life living there …

Note about the photo – Ironically “The Old Man and the Sea” needle point that my mother did, turned out to look remarkably like my father, pipe and all.

Love’s forever dream

Where is it written that love should endure
based on the words you spoke one day
As a child now lost in the wilds of time
and soul who is drowning in waves of light

How could you say you forever would be
in love like you felt the moment you touched –
for the first time in life feeling the fire
rising in you like a serpent uncoiled

You came to believe what it is you were told
and never asked what truth you should know
How the power within you began in the night
not far away but now hidden from view

So you vowed to hold on to the hand that you held
before God for as long as you both shall live
Did you er’r think to ask if the vow meant to say –
For as long as you both shall love?

Photo – http://www.reception-wedding.com/bridal_bouquet_photos.htm

The map is not the territory –

blog.geogarage.com/2011/05/colombus-and-piri-reis-map-of-1513.html

The map is not the territory – Alfred Korzybski – We are drawn to conclusions by the outcome of our experience, only what is our experience and where do the foundations of our thinking originate? If we assume they originate in experience based on sense perception then we have created a paradox.

As the saying goes – if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? With the same logic in mind; If the Universe exists but there is no consciousness of it, then does it really?

We take for granted that our senses, and the relative interpretation of them is truth. How can we ever know that what is perceived is – truth? Is belief in our sense perceptions knowledge? It can be if we so choose, and mostly we do.

It is now being proven in laboratories that what we perceive and then registers in our brain, is literally anticipated by the brain which then creates its reality ahead of the experience, based on what it has already perceived.

When I first stood at the rim of the Grand Canyon, nothing I had seen in pictures or read in books could prepare my sense perception for lay before my eyes. The Hippies had an expression for this “it tripped me out, man…” There was no prior experience for my brain to relate the sensory input to … I was in awe!

The question of consciousness is only available to consciousness. Does the mountain goat pause to enjoy the scenery, or it it just part of the scene. Where does consciousness begin?

The map is not the territory … we create the map and then believe it to be true, when it is just a guideline to getting there. I cannot condone, nor condemn anyone, anything, anywhere in consciousness, it is all true to the observer, your map is not my territory, nor is mine yours.

If all this leaves you with questions and you have never seen; Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, I strongly suggest you do

Healing the Reason

"In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks" - John Muir 1877

I wish there was a pill,
to take these hurting years,
of bones that bend inside of me,
and dry up all my tears.

I know there is no way,
to wash away what time,
has made of all my dreams,
in life outside of rhyme.

Ask me how I feel today –
I’ll tell you that I ache,
for all the lessons I have learned,
I gladly would forsake.

For just another carefree day,
of youth now left behind,
and meadows in the country sun,
still living in my mind.

There I knew forever was,
just another day away.
I felt like always I’d arrive,
far from this place today.

Let me go, and let me be,
take away life’s empty role.
And let me heal my body,
when I know I’ve healed my soul.

Waking

Consciousness dreaming 

Wakes to find the world again

Island in the stream

I create …

North American XB-70 'Valkyrie' (Wikipedia)

many stories that go back
to the place where I was born
and I knew that time
and secrets would reveal
all the things I knew before
and all the things I would learn
from others and from lessons
about life and people and places
broken dreams – wishes that came
and went with the setting of the sun
one day I learned there was a woman
and the next day learned
she could leave and never tell why
and then the times in between
never looking back at the scars
of ever wondering why she came
there were places where I hurt
and places where I laughed
and knew the cry of the Valkyrie
and longed for the touch
of a woman who could hear the same
things I wandered looking for
many dreams are built
on days gone by
and I am more complete today
because of them
for thirst is never quenched
in a day nor is a dream
ever complete upon waking

Scales

Some who are cleansing

Others lost in darkness still

Balancing our lives

A poverty of attention

As a Nobel prize-winning economist puts it, “What Information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.” This technologically-driven ADD is transforming politics, entertainment, sports and culture. There is only so much attention to go around, and we are being bombarded with more information all the time. Most of us have no idea how to allocate our attention widely or productively. Those who can help us will be rich.

Read the entire article here:
http://features.slashdot.org/story/01/06/28/1522228/The-Poverty-Of-Attention