Jan 30

Blood is serious, blood is death and life. Blood is your name, it is who you are. Blood is your family, your clan your people. Blood when written is a pact, sacred or profane, which no one may break once they have committed. When blood is bad, it is a terrible curse, turning men against each other in rounds that end with death.

Blood is hot, it presses against our flesh. Blood flows throughout us, mostly water, laced with iron and salt. Blood comes into us as water, where it is mixed with other elements we have ingested. All blood was once water, and all blood will be water again. Blood and water is among the most ancient of laws which bind man and god together. And when we love, we mix our blood together.

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Jan 29

Everything we are comes from the depths of the earth. The elements that comprise our bodies, all transformed by the alchemy of nature is drawn from the minerals in the soil that sustained the plants we consume, the plants that sustain the animals we consume. All the weight in our bones, in our flesh was from the terra firma on which we stand. The minerals come from the stones, pounded and eroded, scoured by wind, water, sun and quakes. We use the earth for a time to inhabit our bodies, filling it with light, and then, the bodies return to the earth from whence it came-and other life takes our offering, reaching into the depths to create bodies of their own.

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Jan 28

It’s been said that everything is formed out of words. That, in the beginning, the first thing that existed, was, in fact, a word. On the face of it, this may seem like ain impossibility. But if we accept that there are gradations of meaning, that metaphor and symbol have their own reality, this is, in fact, a very profound statement (and not one bound by Christianity, the Tao Te Ching says the word is the mother of all things-another interesting anecdote, although perhaps tangential-is that many Asian translations of the Bible refer to Christ as ‘The Tao Made Flesh’).

Everything is made out of words. This is true in that language gives definition to things, it says what things are. In a sense, words define reality-at least as far as our consciousness can apprehend it, for certainly, there are things that exist that are beyond words and beyond definition.

To say that things are made out of words is the beginning of an understanding of the cosmos and how it functions. A word causes something to be. However, there is more to it than this. Put together, the words form a narrative. We are all made of words, and the words work together to create a story. The story is our life and we author it while we live-we are handed a setting, perhaps the start of a plot and then, we write the rest. Our actions may repeat themselves-is it a continuation of the story, or are we re-writing a rough draft into final copy? Perhaps both are the case.

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Jan 22

The beginnings of things are undefined, they are a singluar point from which everything else emanates. At pure beginning things are in their most incipient state-the position at which things transpose from the realm of thought and idea into the physical universe. You could say that all we really have of things are their ideas, that only as we can imagine things do they endure. The beginning is a timeless time because of this, it has all potentialities, as no path other than manifestation has been chosen.

When we conceive of an idea, very often the end result is extremely different than what we at first imagined. In our mind’s eye something takes form and rouses us to work and develop it. It is as though the idea were a living thing that demands to be born that requires life from us. It changes as its shape alters to fit in our universe-as it descends from the altitudes of thought into the depths of formation, it changes to suit the conditions of reality as opposed to imagination. And with human hands, we grasp some part of eternity and render it approachable….

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Jan 20

I’ve had dreams and then seen things that pertain to them inexplicably manifest before me the next day or the following week. I’ve spoken about matters, and then had the same items referred to in conversation appear as time progresses. We live inside of a vast continuum that contains everything from quarks to galaxies; the universe is ancient-some fifteen billion years old, yet, despite the disparity of size or immensity of distance time and again it seems that the universe is a small place. Small, in that related events occur within a relatively short proximity and duration from one another. It would seem inconsequential. But these events, related yet strange to one another are the iterations that define the cosmos. That the universe is made of bodies in space is obvious, but many do not consider that the universe is also made of bodies that are in time as well (the two are the same). Time shapes the dimensions about us as surely as height, width and depth do. What is the shape that time gives us? What is the body that time delivers to the forms about us?

Perhaps it is the correlation of events about us, the sheer unlikeliness of various probabilities that converge and create everything: the surf pounding at the shore, a bird wheels overhead, children laugh and play. Seemingly separate events, entities and qualities are all conjoined by the time they share together.

We meet, we become friends, we become family and share our respective parts of the cosmos with each other-each of us a part that contains the whole.

It is the interconnectedness of all things, and everything from the depths of outer-space to the depths of our souls participates in this eternal moment, connected without cessation and ongoing creation…

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