I keep watching people struggling to find answers, find peace, find love, find something they don't have. But all the struggling is just ....what did Shakespeare say?
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
At work. On line. In a movie or a book. It's just stories. No different, really.
And there is nothing to shed. That's silly. Even "empty space" is part of the singularity.
There, now.
That wasn't so hard.
All that is is Here and Now.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Henry Dean, the great sage and eminent junkie, and his little brother, Eddie
Asking what couldn't be answered was a waste of time.
(Wolves of the Calla)
Saturday, October 24, 2009
from Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett
Page 9.
And this is the room where the past pours into the future via the pinch of the now.
Timers line the walls. Not hour-glasses, although they have the same shape. Not egg-timers, such as you might buy as a souvenir attached to a small board with the name of the holiday resort of your choice jauntily inscribed on it by someone with the same sense of style as a jelly doughnut.
It's not even sand in there. It's seconds, endlessly humming the maybe into the was.
And this is the room where the past pours into the future via the pinch of the now.
Timers line the walls. Not hour-glasses, although they have the same shape. Not egg-timers, such as you might buy as a souvenir attached to a small board with the name of the holiday resort of your choice jauntily inscribed on it by someone with the same sense of style as a jelly doughnut.
It's not even sand in there. It's seconds, endlessly humming the maybe into the was.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Singularity
from A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson:
How to Build a Universe
No matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to grasp just how tiny, how spatially unassuming, is a proton. It is just way too small. A proton is an infinitesimal part of an atom which is itself, f course, an insubstantial thing. Protons are so small that a little dib of ink like the dot on a printed "i" can hold something in the region of 500 billion of them. Rather more than the number of seconds contained in half a million years. So, protons are exceedingly microscopic to say the very least. Now, imagine if you can, and of course you can't, shrinking one of those protons down to a billionth of its normal size into a space so small it could make a proton look enormous. Now pack into that tiny, tiny space about an ounce of matter.
Excellent.
You are ready to start a Universe.
I'm assuming of course that you wish to build an inflationary Universe. If you prefer to build a more old fashioned, standard Big Bang Universe, you'll need additional materials. In fact, you will need to gather up everything there is, every last mote and particle of matter between Here and the Edge of Creation, squeeze it into a spot so infinitesimally compact that it has no dimensions at all. It is known as a Singularity.
In either case, get ready for a really big bang.
Naturally, you will wish to retire to a safe place to observe the spectacle. Unfortunately, there is nowhere to retire to because outside the singularity there is no Where. When the Universe begins to expand, it won't be spreading out to fill a larger emptiness. The only space that exists is the space it creates as it goes.
It is natural, but wrong, to visualize the singularity as a kind of pregnant dot, hanging in a dark, boundless Void. But there is no space, no darkness. The singularity has no around around it. The is no space for it to occupy, no place for it to be. We can't even ask how long it has been there, whether it has just lately popped into being, like a good idea, or whether it has been there forever, quietly awaiting the right moment. Time doesn't exist. There is no past for it to emerge from.
And so from Nothing our Universe begins.
How to Build a Universe
No matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to grasp just how tiny, how spatially unassuming, is a proton. It is just way too small. A proton is an infinitesimal part of an atom which is itself, f course, an insubstantial thing. Protons are so small that a little dib of ink like the dot on a printed "i" can hold something in the region of 500 billion of them. Rather more than the number of seconds contained in half a million years. So, protons are exceedingly microscopic to say the very least. Now, imagine if you can, and of course you can't, shrinking one of those protons down to a billionth of its normal size into a space so small it could make a proton look enormous. Now pack into that tiny, tiny space about an ounce of matter.
Excellent.
You are ready to start a Universe.
I'm assuming of course that you wish to build an inflationary Universe. If you prefer to build a more old fashioned, standard Big Bang Universe, you'll need additional materials. In fact, you will need to gather up everything there is, every last mote and particle of matter between Here and the Edge of Creation, squeeze it into a spot so infinitesimally compact that it has no dimensions at all. It is known as a Singularity.
In either case, get ready for a really big bang.
Naturally, you will wish to retire to a safe place to observe the spectacle. Unfortunately, there is nowhere to retire to because outside the singularity there is no Where. When the Universe begins to expand, it won't be spreading out to fill a larger emptiness. The only space that exists is the space it creates as it goes.
It is natural, but wrong, to visualize the singularity as a kind of pregnant dot, hanging in a dark, boundless Void. But there is no space, no darkness. The singularity has no around around it. The is no space for it to occupy, no place for it to be. We can't even ask how long it has been there, whether it has just lately popped into being, like a good idea, or whether it has been there forever, quietly awaiting the right moment. Time doesn't exist. There is no past for it to emerge from.
And so from Nothing our Universe begins.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
From Rumi
I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain and soul.
There's no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.
Skin, blood, bone, brain and soul.
There's no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.
Weather
My attitude about weather has changed and I think the change is fairly recent.
I like it.
All of it.
Even the "less than optimal" days.
I don't mind rain. It means my well is being filled and my plants are happy. I bitch a little about having to mow, but I'd rather not have to water the fruit trees.
I don't really mind cold. I have coats and a functioning heating system in my house and the place I work. And it reminds me to appreciate the heat of summer.
I don't really mind heat. I have working AC and a quick run through a shower makes me pretty instantly comfortable. And the blistering days of summer remind me to appreciate the chill of winter.
But it isn't just that I can alleviate the discomfort of weather with coats or umbrellas or temperature control. Weather is the circulatory system of the planet. I like for it to be in good working order and what ever is happening in the sky is the right thing to be happening at the time.
I love the variety that is available. All blue skies and mild days would eventually just be boring. Sunsets, sunrises, clouds doing whatever dance they have a mind to are just beautiful.
Weather delights my eyes and my skin.
I like it.
All of it.
Even the "less than optimal" days.
I don't mind rain. It means my well is being filled and my plants are happy. I bitch a little about having to mow, but I'd rather not have to water the fruit trees.
I don't really mind cold. I have coats and a functioning heating system in my house and the place I work. And it reminds me to appreciate the heat of summer.
I don't really mind heat. I have working AC and a quick run through a shower makes me pretty instantly comfortable. And the blistering days of summer remind me to appreciate the chill of winter.
But it isn't just that I can alleviate the discomfort of weather with coats or umbrellas or temperature control. Weather is the circulatory system of the planet. I like for it to be in good working order and what ever is happening in the sky is the right thing to be happening at the time.
I love the variety that is available. All blue skies and mild days would eventually just be boring. Sunsets, sunrises, clouds doing whatever dance they have a mind to are just beautiful.
Weather delights my eyes and my skin.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Life as condiment
I was doing a tedious piece of home-tending and it occurred to me that letting go is like making mayonnaise.
I have been told by I-don't-know-how-many people that making your own mayo is ridiculously simple and the end product it much more lovely than the prepackaged crap that you get from the grocery. Then they would tell me how to do it and it sounded HARD. Complicated. Not the Easy Thing they kept insisting was the case.
But, finally, I quit fighting with my fear and just did it. There were only 3 ingredients and it was perfect. (OK. I didn't like the taste of canola oil in it, but it was still actual mayo and the metaphor still holds.)
Be here, be Now. Chop wood, carry water. It sounds too easy. Like there has to be a trick. But it isn't. The hard part is letting it be easy.
I have been told by I-don't-know-how-many people that making your own mayo is ridiculously simple and the end product it much more lovely than the prepackaged crap that you get from the grocery. Then they would tell me how to do it and it sounded HARD. Complicated. Not the Easy Thing they kept insisting was the case.
But, finally, I quit fighting with my fear and just did it. There were only 3 ingredients and it was perfect. (OK. I didn't like the taste of canola oil in it, but it was still actual mayo and the metaphor still holds.)
Be here, be Now. Chop wood, carry water. It sounds too easy. Like there has to be a trick. But it isn't. The hard part is letting it be easy.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Towers
Dark Tower
Tower of Song
Tower of Babel
Things created. Things Built.
First imagined then an action to form that thing.
Then, it crumbles.
The Hub
Mohammed's mountain
Aztec temples
To see far from a great height. To see everything at once.
The HeroesStorytellers keep trying to see Truth.
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.
Look on my works, ye mighty,
And despair.
Tower of Song
Tower of Babel
Things created. Things Built.
First imagined then an action to form that thing.
Then, it crumbles.
The Hub
Mohammed's mountain
Aztec temples
To see far from a great height. To see everything at once.
The HeroesStorytellers keep trying to see Truth.
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.
Look on my works, ye mighty,
And despair.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Big hitter, the Lama
So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I’m a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald… striking.
So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one – big hitter, the Lama – long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier.
Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he’s gonna stiff me.
And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.”
And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.”
So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one – big hitter, the Lama – long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier.
Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he’s gonna stiff me.
And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.”
And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.”
So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
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