dream sequence

In this dream I found myself in a stranger’s house with you, and we were set up by two thieves to take the fall. We had nothing in our possession yet we started running. You  ran far ahead of me. I could see them coming for us and hollering after.

I wanted to run but my entire body was set in slow motion. I had a terribly helpless feeling! I moved up a long strip of land, connecting yards, and saw a puff of smoke and heard them shoot you. I never felt so hopeless.

dream #

dream #1234

So many dreams to go. This one is a waking dream of  acceptance, to see myself in the context of all my world and relationships and choices and demands, the push and pull, the ebb and flow, and wake up each day willing to embrace it. To fight for what I want and need, knowing full well the fight will never end for the challenge is the life.


My younger self reminds me not to forget my shadow, not to leave it out of the story, for without a shadow what are we? Nothing of substance, for anything of substance casts a shadow. The world needs a recluse, the world wants a freakshow, some deep failure, fatal flaw. So they can see themselves through it, otherwise they cannot often look. And when they see character lost in its shadow, well, contempt may turn to stone and break, and inside the contempt may we find our humanity in another’s vulnerability. And find our compassion again. Toward others and toward ourselves! In a book, on the silver screen, in a play, in the news, at an opera, on the streets. We all are born into lives with our limits. We come abbreviated! Short-changed from the start. Getting alienated and thrown out of the womb, severed, the umbilical cord. What awaits us are further separations: from family, friends, community, self. From shadow. We need guidance to negotiate our way back into relationship! May books be always our guides. To the one who you know who knows you, too, I tell myself, may you steer your pen and the keys, to help and relate, not to please.

dream sequence

What if I cannot live with anyone, ever again, I thought to myself, before falling asleep. I have been tired since I asked him politely to leave. He did not take it very well, and I did not take his not taking it well, well. I was tired by trying to share my space, and by trying not to share my space, and fell fast asleep.

Up the stairs the atmosphere was boisterous, everyone seemed happy like evolved, and my mind kept turning us over and over, wondering why we were so quiet, down here, so reserved, like somebody had died. I was in the midstream (exactly halfway up a long and straight stairwell) when the matron of the house came about before bed asking around and offering her hand, to make the last hour a good one, keeping us safe and needless, tidying up.

Her daughter, my friend, had left a small book behind, with a cover splashed in pink, which stood up on the floor by the couch. What if she never returns, ever again? The book had small truths littered about its pages. I wanted to offer it to the contemplative boy across from me on a broken chair, but I could not move. I’m not much of a lucid dreamer.

She spoke to us kindly, my friend’s mom, she made me feel I was helping her just by being there. She had always been the kind to illuminate your presence for you. When I awoke, I wondered would I see her, ever again? She died many years before.

book review

Review: Ideas And Opinions

Ideas And OpinionsIdeas And Opinions by Albert Einstein
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Einstein’s own words, what could be better? Some scientists struggle to bring their ideas to the general public, and many scientists require you to have a working knowledge of biology, chemistry and physics to translate their writings. I was thrilled when I discovered this book and the easy way he writes about his life and theory. He was to science what Carl Jung was to psychology… both of them visionary, both humble. They both took the time to decodify their fields for us. Kinda like Bodhisattvas. Committed to the attainment of enlightenment for the benefit of others.

watching you watching them watching you

The cost we pay to live in the USA…. may be exemplified by a simple road trip cross country, trans America (USA). Try it out. You will find towns beneath highways that resemble other towns beneath highways. People behind cash registers that appear as tired as other people behind cash registers. In their tired uniform uniforms. Tired of it. Watching you. Watching you watching them. Watching you watching them watching you. Tired. If blindfolded and turned around ten times, then asked to locate ourselves… we might not have a clue. I am the pot that calls the kettle black.

Even  mother nature grows weary as she is stripped of her plentiful bounty and forced to push high fructose corn syrup up out of her chilled soil. These are only the touch of the surface of problems growing wider and deeper every day in this beautiful country we have pledged our loyalty, too, or pledged allegiance too, the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God (of our understanding), indivisible. Though factions may develop at times, united we stand. For we know in our hearts that divided, we will fall. We have become willing, some of us, to lay down our lives for our country. The rest of us (worth mentioning) atleast try and pay our taxes. The rest of us may simply be marginalized, paying dues. I am the pot that calls the kettle black.

The solution? I cannot guess what it is, exactly. Another ascetic experiment like Walden Pond? Heavier drinking? More bed-in protests? Polyamory? Washing down pharmaceuticals? Attempts to colonize Mars? That could generate some good hearty laughs. The money may get pushed around, but that wont necessarily grow it, rather it may keep the virtual cash flow propped up until some recluse mathematician tells us in no uncertain terms we are fucked. Royally.

Look for China to bring her influence to your doorstep, USA. Look for history to be rewritten to account for the dynasties. Look for the Color Red. Streaming quickly like a dragon, in and out of chinatown locales, ever expanding and contracting and expanding again, demonstrably, tangibly! You will learn the difference between Cantonese and Mongolian cuisine! You will be careful where you post your Free Tibet! decals.

I say look to the youth. The baby boomer babies. Only they may be our saving grace. For they are naturals on computers. They embrace diversity. They may best manifest the new paradigm overtaking us, whether we like it or not. Stay open-minded, my friends. Be flexible. Let your pride down, but not your guard. Work on your credit score. Resist that four foot flat screen on sale at best buy! Or read a fucking book for a change. Get off your ass and ride a bicycle, perhaps. For godsakes, people! The 2-liters of cola littering your floor? Recycle them, ok? Change your ways! Give a damn about the environment! Look around you to your atmosphere, don’t shut yourself inside and soak into your imprint! You don’t have that luxury anymore! I am the pot that calls the kettle black.

Be a man! Be a woman! Find your heart! Your spirit! Rejuvenate your soul, I don’t care if its shock therapy! Jump off a pier into cold winter waters! Go camp out with the Occupiers for a night! Talk to your children, you might learn something you don’t already know! Humble yourself. Your ego thinks you’re a celebrity. Center of the world. Commander of all electronic devices you survey. Hero in your own head! Knock knock! Anybody home? I am the pot that calls the kettle black.

East meets West takes on a whole new meaning, now. Its not doing yoga inside your home theatre anymore. Its more like pot stickers…we are the pot stickers, frying in the pan, not quite feeling the heat thanks to our doughy second skin. But the heat has been turned up and insensitivities are giving way to hypersensitivities, you know. Check it out. Walk around. Look and listen. Drop and roll. You ain’t gonna survive if you cannot find and heal your poor lost (and truly discarded) taxed out past credit, beleaguered soul. I am the pot that calls the kettle black.