Author: Joseph

First there was nothing.

Then one thing.

Then fractions.

First there was blackest black.

Then lightest white.

Then refractions.

How blue is different from red

is different from yellow.

Their cousins of musical notes

in harmony inspire complementary colors.

As bees love flowers

with colors not seen by me

Humans love color.

From the methodical Rembrant

To brash Pollack.

My breath split by the reed a flute creates a tone.

As light refracted by the prisms of our eyes create cornicopia.

Every cell sheds lumens

and wonder what color.

A lumen from a distant star

arriving long after the original star has gone cold.

How our bioluminescence persists ever outward

after we’ve become salt.

Vibrations and rainbows.

Stoics and emotion.

Pick your channel.

Pick your color.

Treat everyone as equals including the crazed, manipulative or sociopathic.

Just avoid those who cause trouble politely.

An action towards one is an action towards all.

Supreme freedom and sovereignty.

Compassion for the child and butterfly as the curmudgeon and caterpillar.

Integrity. Authenticity. Truth.

More is spoken in silence.

Be soft.

Take time.

Slow down.

Be present.

Open the heart.

Let water be a rolemodel.

Befriend your own heart.

Take time for yourself.

Patience is among the greatest attributes.

Love is the giver of life.

Truth equality above all.

All is how it should be.

Have levity. Laugh at life’s seriousness.

Let go of sorrow and live with joy. Not of ignorance, but of self-awareness and responsibility.

Allow yourself to be broken, so you can be recreated. Reborn.

A single drop drips from a cosmic fern into a still lake creating reverberating ripples in all directions once back to collective waters.

A single word can change the world. How random acts of kindness begets more.

Karma. Seven degrees of separation from everyone else.

The world is smaller than we can imagine yet time vast and none.

100^th monkey.

Spontaneous insight. Synchronicities.

Progeny fo on to speak for us after we enter the collective lake.

Artwork with artist forgotten.

Books entering the memory.

A message scribbled on a wall not even registering consciousness,

but registering.

Compliments of empowerment.

Criticizing is minimizing.

We choose every moment.

Imagine if this was the last time. The last day for them. The last day for you.

Dance instead of walk.

Sing instead of talk.

Open your hands and your eyes.

A life of authentic expression with compassion and integrity.

Buddha says suffering is inevitable.

But simplicity, compassion and patience is the way.

Source of power.

Intellect came after emotion.

Emotion came after Love.

Calories from animal, from plants, from sun rays, from atomic splitting of plasma elements.

Power at the speed of light. Borrowed power from the oily lubrication of tecktonic plates.

Water vortexing in spirals creates dancing field of raindrops upon an infinite waterfall. Splitting and melding. Rippling. Electric ephemerality. Black to white. Prisms into rainbows and back to white.

The dynamo of sunset and sunrise of equinoxes of morning anticipation and night reflection.

Vibrating strings of resonance. The metronome is ticking. The clockspring is wound.

One creates an opposite

Creates a space between

Creates everything.

What feeds the spring?

Is it the headwaters?

Or the rain? Or the clouds and fog? Or the ocean? Or the stream? Or the trickles? Or the springs?

Infinite cycles instantaneous.

Self creation, knowing.

Tick tock. Drip drop.

Salt once more valuable than gold.

Now limited for blood pressure.

Salt for savory.

And for sweet.

I’d say he’s worth his salt.

Lewis and Clark boiling ocean for salt to preserve fish.

Salt for hydration.

Salt for dehydration.

To clean cast iron.

Molten salt.

Electric salt.

Metal salt.

Cell salts from the ash of burned bodies.

Alkaline salts of the burned lemon.

Precipitation and distillation

all that’s left is salt.

The relationship with water.

At one but water transcends

and evaporates leaving it’s partner.

The two combine to increase conductivity.

But the water shall return

just as it does in the seasonal floods of dried salt beds of desert.

Sweat with it’s salt.

Conductive of electricity.

Give me the heat so we can sweat as rain drips down the windows.

Perhaps the rain is the sweat of god?

Echoes of other nows.

Etheric dreams of wonder.

Sentimental pleasantries.

Angular and fuzzy traumas.

Memories as being whispering on your shoulders.

Experience, wisdom and jadedness.

Can you remember a time when you didn’t have memories?

Learning, evolving, growing.

What did I do yesterday?

How a memory is actually a memory of a memory.

Stuck in the past for some

unable to let go to live now.

A thought can have more importance than reality.

Memories don’t exist. Or do they?

Memories of the future,

Premonitions and intuition.

Fears, wonders and yearning.

Memories of your first love.

The smell of fall.

Of teachers and friends of a different era.

Of different lands.

Of music and food and dance.

Of co-creation.

Adventures.

Feeling

Beauty.

Sensuality.

Our Nature.

Spirals outward. They say the universe is exponentually expanding to the point of reverse.

Spirals inward. Supernovas and black holes. The edge of matter, time, logic, shape, form. Precipice of pure tone, static, buzzing,

Like the stem cell of undifferentiated existence.

Like how a just born witnesses the world for the first time without walls, words or gestalts.

The in breath is as important as out breath. Feminine as masculine. Night as day. Death as birth. There is no right of wrong way. There is only the way chosen in relationship with circumstance and all the little things which led us here now.

The here and now is what I know to be the only truth. Presence is the way.

The future is as ancient as the past. Grandfather future is as cast as grandmother past.

The spirit of future gently pulls everyone and everything ever forward as its companion pushes from the back. We can resist this magnetic, gravitational movement through time as light and matter cannot resist a blackhole. And while the mystery of blackholes and uncertain future can be scary, I am curious and hopeful of all that is before me. What does the next corner reveal?

In my excitement for the experience I want to run, but must remind that it’s easier to trip in haste than it is when we saunter and dance through infinite present.

The space between past and future which is the onlny thing to actually exist yet as soon as you try to hold it or contain it or record it or measure it, it vanishes from what it was like trying to capture a snowflake with warm hands.

I think I’ll sit on this log while listening to red wing black birds and be.