Now and then lately I think this: Man, my thoughts are stupid. And, maybe thinking this is leading to a better 'quality' of thoughts. But it's all just thinking. Trusting my mind less (again) so I can trust my mind more.

When I sit and consider what I'm thinking, when I first focus my attention on what thoughts I'm thinking, right away, a space opens up with nothing in it. It's empty. So then I think back to what I was thinking before the space. Then I realize that this is too much thinking. Thoughts come, and I don't shoo them away. I let em come. If enough stupid thoughts come, I go, damn, these thoughts are stupid. Pinning a label of 'stupid' on anything is stupid. And mean. But it's just the kick in the ass I seem to need sometimes. Sometimes I call them 'garbage thoughts.' Sometimes 'chatter.' 'Noise.' It's the natural landscape of my mind, though, I guess. Too much judging is stupid too. It's a tightrope.

I wake up early and I usually lay there a while trying for more sleep. I don't really have my good thinking cap on yet - my 'thought detector.' So the thoughts during that time are stupid and negative and ancient (ancient to this moment).

If the thoughts really keep the hooks in me - they won't let go - I won't let go - I think about my feet or something. The air on my skin.

It's fun, though, sometimes, to make fun of my thoughts. I realize where my mind goes during certain situations, and it's a goddam trip. It's enough to fill ten seasons of comedy sitcoms.

The writer dream, the pipe dream. That's one of the funniest ones! Instead of dreaming about being "some kind of Mickey Spillane," I just open up this piece of ....whatever...this blog (or maybe start up a sneak blog elsewhere and tell all!) and just start keying it all in. Or I write on scraps of paper and give it to the breeze.

Proof that I'm Not Crazy (almost)

I used to hear bagpipe music at lunch time somewhere in the neighborhood around work. This is the kind of thing that could make somebody wonder whether they're going crazy. I don't really care whether I'm crazy or not. But, when I finally actually saw this person playing bagpipes, it kind of solidified my sense of reality. And it's pretty cool other than that too. Too bad I didn't get a closer shot. She really is there, playing the bagpipe, I swear!

Come Back to this Root Question ~ Mooji

I felt compelled to write a blog post about Led Zepplin, not sure why. I guess I’m on a kick with them. I’ve always liked them, you know, but they were so…everywhere. Lately, though, I really love em. I love Led Zepplin, but I don’t like AC DC or Aerosmith. Know what I mean? I actually dislike those guys. Anway.

It’s always a great occasion when I catch Led Zepplin on the radio when I‘m driving. That black magic feel. Weird smokey mysticism. The essence of rock n roll but much much more. Hard love and a whole lot of it. Their songs, of course, used to be on the radio a lot more back in the 70s. Their music got planted into my awareness deeply deeply at a very young age. Houses of the Holy came out in 1973, and that seems to be the one I am most drawn to. 1973 is when attendance at one of their concerts (in Tampa) broke the Beatles attendance record for their showing at Shea Stadium. At that time, if I wasn’t hearing Led Zepplin blaring from my brother’s room, I was hearing it blaring out of my sister’s room. Or out of a car going by outside. It was everywhere. I was two years old when Houses of the Holy came out. That‘s the album I‘m most drawn to, as I say, I guess. The Song Remains the Same (there ain‘t nothing like it. It races. It‘s perfect. Perfect grace and pace). Over the Hills and Far Away (sweetness that hardens and gives hard love and takes you everywhere and leaves you exhausted and satisfied). That funky song on there, The Crunge. Led Zepplin music got into me early, and it never went away. It’s deep deep inside me.

The music is so familiar, but I really couldn’t go down the list and name every song on every album. I have known people who could, but for some reason, unfortunately, in my opinion, those people have mostly been douche bags. But that’s just my unfortunate experience with people. I’m not saying anything about you if you know their whole repertoire. But I think the reason is: Yes. Led Zepplin is awesome. The best rock band ever probably. No shit. I don’t need somebody telling me album, song, verse, lyric. It’s like dumping too much of a particular spice on a life blend, you know? I don’t know. I mean: I like Led Zepplin and about fifty million other bands too, old and new. I think what I don’t like, as far as people and people’s music tastes go: I don’t like people who only like Led Zepplin - and hate everything else. Or something like that.

As I’ve said in my corny way, Led Zepplin is part of my soul. But you know what? This part of my soul almost got stolen from me. There was a guy. The guy could probably play a bunch of their songs on his guitar, and I would have heard him do it if I ever cared to spend any amount of time around the guy. Anyway, Led Zepplin was his favorite I guess. He had a funny thing he’d say about listening to Led Zepplin: Gettin the Led out eh? Anyway, I’m pretty sure the guy was fuckin my wife (now exwife), so anything having anything to do with that dude made me want to fight and puke at the same time...I’d be a fightin, pukin mess, kicking, swinging, grappling, flailing; and then wallowing, you know, a real mess…if I thought about that guy too much or actually ever saw him again. That guy and people like him would try to somehow steal Led Zepplin from people like me, it seems. I mean: I don’t own a single Led Zepplin album, but I don’t need to. I will love them all my life, and they will continue. They will be on the radio. And I can stream them online anytime ever. I will be 80 years old (I hope) driving an old ass car to wherever and Led Zepplin songs will come on the radio regularly. I’m sure of it. And I’m sure I’ll nod my bald old head to it.

There is another guy. The guy has been called ‘creepy’ by somebody I know, and I didn’t disagree. He lives round here. I was taking my garbage out, and this guy was sitting in his car absolutely blaring a Led Zepplin song. I can’t remember which one. I was too busy taking the long way around. I thought a little better of the guy for that.. I thought a little better of him, but then again, I thought a little worse of people who REALLY REALLY LOVE Led Zepplin. I thought better of him because he was lost in a rock’n roll moment, hangin in the parking lot blaring Led Zepplin just because it was Led Zepplin. But, people think the guy’s a creep I guess. He does speed walk laps around the complex with no shirt on and no underwears under his little shorts and all that…and he tries to punk people with his glares, he did me like that, but I clowned him with a goofball counter glare and he broke it off. And…he also took the lady I mentioned (who I came to 'know') and her son into his car and eighty miles per hour in a forty-five zone, admitting later that he was blitzed on pain killers. He had invited her and her son to pizza. She wanted nothing to do with him after that, she says. But. He tells people he was a cop long ago (which I believe)…and now he’s a dispatcher I guess…and he tells people a story of how somebody broke into his apartment and stole all his guns (which is good I guess but who cares- times ten trillion). He was crushing, stalking, banging on the door of the lady I mentioned above and all that, and she bad mouthed him very often.

Is this what Led Zeppelinness is all about? I mean, is it about: Who ends up getting the girl... Is that what it's about? I saw an interview with Stephen Tyler on a VH1 show where they were naming the 100 best hard rock bands. (Led Zepplin was number one, to VH1.) Stephen Tyler said that he was watching Led Zeppelin with his girlfriend. By the end of the night, the girl had left Stephen Tyler and gone with Robert Plant (if I'm remembering the story correctly).

In closing, I should not associate Led Zepplin with undesirable characters. I shouldn’t characterize people as undesirable either, I guess. I’ve been that asshole. Blaring Led Zepplin while idling at America’s stoplights and in Her parking lots. Some people don’t like Led Zepplin, and I forced them to hear it just because I do like them. I should associate Led Zepplin with noble characters like my brother, though I’m not sure if they were his favorite. He liked about twenty million bands. He was fifteen when I was two when Houses of the Holy came out. He had to have liked them. But probably, it’s like it is now or any time when a band is so tremendous and people are crazy in love with them. You get fed up and you don’t want to like what everybody else likes and it takes a while for you to start to re-like them and come to love them - they have to last long enough for those stages to execute. My brother had plenty of time for that, plenty of drive time, getting the Led out.

Part of me wishes I had more bloggin buddies, like before.

part of me is glad I got no bloggin buddies, becaues I just want to say what I want to say - I don't want to interact in here.

I'm way more interactive on twitter. On twitter, about half the time, I am responding to something I've seen.

On blogger, lately, anymore...ever since I opened this blog back up and started writing reams, I haven't really read other people's blogs much. Is it because I'm stuck too far up my own head? Or am I still in the process of self exploration, self discovery (nearly barfing at use of these phrases)....

Have I scared everybody off because of the crazy sickening pathetic 'woe is me' shit I was posting before I locked the blog down?

Have people lost interest in me and should I care?

I was tempted to go back and tag every recent post with tags that I think would get more 'readers' to my 'site.'

Bloggin has changed though - in relation to other social media - bloggin is awash in a flood of other types of social media.

Do people still comment on each other's blogs? ...and when they receive a comment, they go back to that commentor's blog and read and comment there? Famous famous blogs get comments, yeah, but us little league bloggers - do we care about each other anymore?

Blogger has created several different ways to 'follow' somebody. You can just go to a blog read a few words - or don't even read a few words - just hit 'follow' or 'join'

Writing about spiritual all this stuff feels wishy washy sometimes. Most of the time.

Writing about spiritual stuff is addictive.

Is spirituality for people who are too lazy to study philosophy?

Is philosophy for people who overthink everything and are afraid of their feelings?

Spirituality is a subject where it is possible to seek too much knowledge - various people in it even say so.

Apparently, all I can think to blog about anymore is spiritual stuff. I know it seems really wishy-washy. I hope to weed out a lot of spiritual bullshit though (my own, I mean, hopefully) - or at least weed out stuff that won't work for me - - and give reasons why. And I'm going to mention stuff that DOES work for me.

Two items:

First: I was with people who were describing their most joyous recent moments, occasions, incidents or events - times when they had experienced their greatest joy recently. When it felt like my turn to speak, I told them that I had recently reached a point where it felt like I had disappeared. I tried to describe it, but the words just weren't working. I remember it pretty clearly though, and I'll try to describe it: I was outside of work smoking a cigarette, just standing there. I decided to take an auditory inventory, like I do sometimes to get calm. I tried to count or inventory every single sound I heard: every bird, every vehicle, every little breeze - everything. And for a moment or two, it felt like I was no longer there. My awareness of myself - the awareness of myself that I am familiar with - that self no longer seemed to be there. I felt empty (good empty...great empty...the best empty). I could feel myself going in and out of it - like I was coming in and out of a sleep. I was intake only. All my shit: my thoughts, my feelings, my judgments, my memories -- all of it - all the stuff that I ordinarily recognize as me seemed to be gone - and in its place? It seemed like I was just a part of the surroundings. I've zoned out before, a zillion times, been a wallflower...but this was very very different. This had a crazy joy to it. "I really can't describe it to you," I told those people, "because I wasn't there to experience it." (I kind of stole that joke, adapted it anyway).

The second thing:

This same group of people were discussing or debating how to respond to threat: Should you get really still and calm inside so that you can make a sound judgement, or, fuck that shit: you should respond instantly on instinct, survival instinct, forget that wishy-washy stuff, you have to act. You can't be pussy-footing around like some pansy. But: I favored the first option, I just couldn't think of a good way to argue for that at the time. Well, I was thinking about it more afterwards, and I thought of this: An old boss of mine from DC works as a volunteer EMT in her off hours. She runs ambulance calls on the weekend and on some week nights. I compared her attitude at work with the way she described her ambulance calls. At work, she would get stressed and pissed and flustered, no more than the average person, I guess, but still - she would frazzled at work. She was not a model of calm stillness at work. But: Then she would describe some of the calls she would go on in the ambulance: she would describe a situation like this: She came to a scene where a teenager had just wrecked. He was bleeding everywhere and it looked like he was about to die. She could smell the liquor all in the car. The car was completely thrashed, just a twisted mass of metal that didn't even look like a car anymore. The guy's stereo was still blaring when she ran up to the wreck... she would describe the situation in amazing detail... Upon hearing a story like this, I would ask: "What did you do? What do you do in a situation like that? Did you freak out? How do you do it? How do you not freak out? I would have freaked out!" She said no, she did not freak out. She said she was completely calm. There was a heightened state of awareness that came over her. She knew exactly what to do. She followed her training precisely. She felt like she was right in her element. She felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be, and she was supremely confident that she would do exactly what needed to be done. So in answer to the above question: when faced with disaster, should we: immediately act on instinct through the force of our fear, or should we act from a state of mind that is completely clear and aware: This, to me, is proof that one should act from a state of mind that is completely clear and aware. If you can. There are those that say the following, and it's true: You never know how you'll react to adversity until the moment of truth. Mike Tyson had a great great quote: "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face."

But this guy, Bentinho Massaro, has some great words related to this too, about the mind and calm versus chaos: "...awareness is constantly here. It's seeing the silence, equally, as it is seeing the disturbance. There is no difference to awareness."

Why fear?

New Technique, Update, Confession

I invented a new way to clear out mental chatter and simplify your understanding of your current situation and find some stillness and peace in your present situation! Here goes:

Take whatever you are doing, and make a headline out of it. Make it the most concise, succinct and short headline you possibly can.
Man Sits at Computer Typing
Man Sits in Chair Thinking About Breathing
Man Drives Car

Even though these aren't newsy items, phrase em in the form of a headline and see how you do!

...and don't be addin shit...like...
Man Explains Idea to Friends and Worries They'll Think It's Stupid

-----------------------------------------all that and more-----------------------------------------

Today I was involved in an effort with others which could be classified with today's popular terminology: 'a friggin cluster'

I realized that everyone involved was...like...three hundred yards away, trying to hit a little square on a moving calendar with a bb gun in high wind...while high, in the back of a speeding pickup truck driven by somebody who was...high.

-----------------------------------------and no less important-----------------------------------------

I have had two balloons hovering over my desk for weeks, one from my birthday and one from my anniversary at my dungeon. I decided it was time to get rid of them. My neighbor asked if I wanted to borrow her scissors. She's the type who would stab balloons to death. I said, "Nah, instead of stabbing them to death, I'm going to set them free." On my way out, I did. I watched them for a while and thought about how cool I was for doing this....the balloons got more and more height, and a good breeze really carried them. Then, in another part of the sky, I saw a jet airliner. It was nowhere near the balloons, but I thought to myself, dammit, what if a balloon got caught in the intake of one of those jet engines, holy shit. So I'm not as cool as I initially thought. How about you?

Red Eyes

When they're squeezing on you from every direction, there is no direction for your guts to ooze out! Time to 'disappear' (with ironic single quotes) and let all the forces pushing in on me slam into each other, let em glimpse each other's grim faces as they collide and bloody their noses on their own hard heads...or something...this is all very dramatic and heavy, I know, but this is how the feelings feel sometimes - at 4:17 am - when the thoughts won't stop chasing and jumping up on the truck and weighing my ass end down so bad that the wheels drag on the wells. Time once again to lighten up and liven up myself. Lighter than a ghost. I mean: I will be there. I'll be there, but I won't, but I will - more so even. Is there a way where I can evaporate even more? And every so often, when the forecast calls for it, I'll rain down lightly just about everywhere in this listening area? And then I'll gather underground for about thirty thousand years and come up through a spring. As far as the cycle of life for water, it's probably better to wait it out thirty thousand years underground and come up as a spring than to keep hanging around like a fog - - but even that is stupid. With all the 'worthy' matches of wits and all the times I was wrong versus when they were wrong and everybody talking over everybody and all the other noise...the real advances aren't being made where most people think they are. And the thing is, under some filtering, everybody knows this and just about everything else too if they'd lubricate their peepers.

Spacious

You name it, I got room for it. I'm saying yes because saying no sucks. Too many tunes to mention. Too much tech to document. Too many cravings to ignore constantly all the time always except for the rare times I succumb. This dumb blog sittin out here. It won't quit. It's all mouse clicks and gear shifts; stop recording and press send submit and execute - and guess who cares: nobody, least of all me. The song names in that playlist once again are:

Laughing at the Goofballs and then They Get Serious

Feathery ForceField

Scary News from Back Home

Sanity Vice Grip in the Looney Bin Metal Shop

Exactly the Right Amount of Sleep

A lot of this spiritual stuff seems like bullshit. Moreover, at times, it seems to lead to a drone-like state. It would lead to a drone-like state either because it's bullshit, or I can only reach a mediocre level of success at it, like in many of my endeavors. Halfway up the ladder of spirituality (which is where I'd likely end up) - halfway to spiritual is drone.

Yes, I've managed to alleviate a lot of the sad/mad stuff swirling in my head - or accept it. But, there is a 'but.' A big 'But' - with a capital 'B' and a big butt. It doesn't seem real or possible sometimes - to reach this hyped, maybe bogus, probably bogus state of bliss. 'Enlightenment' - the ultimate, the coveted, the black belt, the force, ...a lot of people say they're there. That it is where everybody needs to be.

Maybe I'll turn this blog into Bobby's Spirituality Myth Bustin Blog.

There are a zillion saucy and delicious and decadent and dramatic things I could tell ya about! Right here! Love, sex, family drama, interpersonal drama, strife, CRAVING, SUFFERING.

You know what else? There is so variation and disagreement among 'Spiritual Leaders' - how could any of them have it right? If they're all 'authorities,' and they all disagree on such fundamental stuff...how could you find any 'truth' in any of it? I'm supposed to pick what makes sense to me and piece together my own 'thing' and rock it like a rocket?

Well now: that's the challenge. That's the choice. Or, don't - don't even bother. Take it or leave it. Continue with your stories: Three heartbreaks since the big heartbreak, one of which I inflicted on somebody else. A spin-out! Interpersonal conflicts/mental games with the various. Occupational difficulty/despair. Wild parties. Not so wild parties. A dude sitting here right now in a holey undershirt wearing a cheapo bead necklace and jeans that are too big now. Old technology. Paychecks that race out of the gate. Really long drives. Really long walks. LUST. I ain't jokin, lust. I wish there was a pill. Lack of physical fitness. Signs of aging. Hilarity. The urge to write. The urge to write notes (STILL) and leave them where I think people will find them. Meeting new people. Meditation sessions. Throate Lock: Disrupting a meditation session with a massive fit of coughing and walking out. Tolerance. Distance.

Shrine on St. Simons Island GA

Whenever I make my trip to Virginia or North Carolina to see one of my sisters and their families, on my way back, I always try to find a nice beach that is close to i-95 and that has easy free parking. I found St. Simons Island, GA.

It was cold and windy out, but sunny. It was a weekday, some time in the late morning. There was barely a soul on the beach. It was heavenly.

As I walked on this beach, I came upon a tree. I don't know what kind of tree. Its leaves were gone, but it still stood very sturdy there in the wind. Some people had made it into a shrine for their friend. They had attached various items to the tree. Pictures, trinkets, ornaments - they had even attached a beer up there - I guess it was the beloved's favorite beer. It was so beautiful that they had done this. She must have been loved.

I'm not sure whether the tree was still alive or dead or if it had just shed its leaves for the winter or what. I don't know trees. I don't know what kind of tree it was, as I said. I didn't know this person, or for that matter, I don't think I know anybody who reside at this little beach town. I'm not sure whether the beloved lived around there or if it was her favorite spot. I'd never even heard of this place until I saw mention of it at a rest stop on i-95.It truly is a beautiful spot. It's a point, a jutting piece of beach with patches of vegetation and little dunes here and there. I stared intensely at the surface of the sand. Grains of sand tumbled, blown by the wind over ripples. I walked around a while with a blanket wrapped around me. I stared out at the ocean and watched waves come in.

A few low-grade, no-sweat lows, but some super high highs!

I'm meeting great people at meditation sessions around town. There are a surprising number of them around here. Just show up. Sit down. Let the dude or the lady guide you into meditation. And hey: if your mind starts to wander, it's okay! Just bring it back to that magnificent nothing/everything.

Don't need to cite a source. Don't need to explain.

There are a zillion things I want to blog about, but I hesitate. I hesitate for reasons that you probably are aware of if you have a blog. There's so much that's happened lately in my life lately, but I haven't posted about it.

The main thing is: A guy I knew killed himself. This happened a while ago, but I didn't want to say anything (not here) for various reasons.

You never know what kind of struggles are going on inside a person.

When I heard what happened, I went through a lot of emotions, a lot of depression, a bit of anger, a lot of guilt. What if I had asked the guy, "Hey man, lets go get a beer or something." But.

The guy was very skillful and cool. Very quiet though. He was a sneak smoker, kind of hanging back in the shadows when he smoked. I think he was on and off trying to quit like I am. (I'm smoking again...so so stupid...slowly killing myself.)

The guy would catch me off guard and say something screamingly funny...out of nowhere. He had lots of heart and spirit. Others sensed he was kind of redlined out. He could be pretty caustic, dismissive. Angry. I didn't know him long enough to know what his baseline was, though. 'Is this how this guy is all the time? Or is he going through something?'

First I heard that he disappeared. I thought he had just given Florida the finger and he bounced - without leaving a forwarding address or messages. Some time later though, I found out he had taken his own life. Hearing that caused lots of crying and shock.

There seemed to be a lot of parallels between this guy and me. I've never considered suicide, I've seen images of suicide happening. I don't summon these images. I'd never act on them. I've always said it: I'm too curious (maybe morbidly so sometimes)...too curious to see what will happen. And I have a lot of hope for mankind and for me and for me as part of mankind.

I guess the best you can do: Is do the best you can do to be kind and inviting and inclusive of anybody, no matter how dismissive or cold or taciturn or whatever they seem. Give them an invitation, and keep it an open invitation: Invite them to keep going and join in with the rest of the world, even if it's through the tiny gateway you as an individual can provide. Don't respond with coldness. Don't respond with bitterness. Keep an open door. Give them an option, give them every opportunity to connect and stay with us if they can.

A few people have asked what my job is like lately, and I told them: The biggest adjustment to my job was this: Before, when I didn't know how to do something, it was a temporary pain in the ass. I usually knew exactly how to do everything and there was the work- just do it. Now, that state where I don't know how to do anything: that's my every day all day. Each day I have to do something new. It's never boring, but the unknowns can make ya anxious. Anyway, who cares.

I'm off til the 1/9/2013. I've had my decompression period already. Gonna chill out and roam. Gonna drive to Virginia New Years Day if I'm not too hungover. Gonna try not to be too hungover, but there is a party to be at.

I'm going to resolve to get out of this cave more this year. Just out. All kinds of places to go, events to attend. Feeling purdy gooood.

A lot of spiritual advice seems to go to extremes or propose extreme ideas.

Your consciousness came before everything else...everything else owes its existence to your consciousness.

But: There was stuff here before I was born. (Is this body that sits here typing this stuff - is it really just a container that clear awareness was poured into...a glass that will crack one day, spilling its contents out - so it can evaporate back into everything - - never having left, never having been created?)

'I don't exist.'...the 'I' ...'me'- does not exist. You are part of everything. You are everything. (Am I really a part of everything and everyone? Even you?)

But: I have a license and a job and a desk where I sit at work and a social security number and a body and so on. If I make a mistake at work, my ass gets chewed.

I am afraid to ask spiritual seekers questions about these basics. I'm afraid they'll all laugh at me.

Or do these words exaggerate on purpose - trying to push you as far as you'll go toward that unattainable perfections...

Although: Sometimes when my mind really empties out, I do feel like I'm not there. I do feel sort of like I've melted into the background, melted into the surroundings, integrated assimilated... Is this where/how I should be? Is this it? More and more I notice these interludes. More and more, things that used to touch me can't touch dis. More and more - less and less. The bad mind stuff goes away, but I've been wondering if there's some joy coming. As I type all this, I feel like all of it is wrong. It's just exercise for my fingers...I might as well be banging away on a keyboard, like a casio or a toy piano - instead of banging useless keystrokes that create dopey letters on a blog nobody reads. (Woah is me (the not-me).)

There's got to be a middle path in all this. I don't know.

I have been watching videos from conscious.tv for several days straight. I'm sure a regular conscious.tv viewer would be able to come along and shred my blog post to bits. Moreover, I'm sure that for me to sit here and think about my blog post getting shredded - this could probably be shredded. So, once again, I have found the perfect time to stop typing and click the 'Publish' button.

Happy Holidays!

Endless Stories

With some TV shows, you start to wonder: just how is it that the character gets into so much trouble - just by chance. Weekly. Oh no, the main character got hit by a car this week. By chance. Oh no, the main character ran into a multinational smuggling ring of thugs unloading dope in the alley behind his house this week. By chance. Oh no, the main character got mugged. By chance. I know that the writers have to do this to keep the TV show going, to have weekly story lines -- and you have to suspend some disbelief in order for the TV watchin experience to work out. But. Come on.

But: Stuff like my spin-out last night (described in the post below) - - stuff like that happens. Every so often, something happens in your life that you believe is interesting enough, dramatic enough, to write a blog post about. A little story.

All of this personal drama serves to make the experience of watching old TV shows more palatable, more doable. You start to accept it: Yeah, bad stuff happens in life. Hopefully, not as often as my favorite TV show characters. I'll buy it.

And, anyway, what else I got to do? Just sitting here rockin my 40s...watchin TV shows I've already seen - - old shows you find on Netflix. Okay, I'll suspend loads and loads of disbelief. Why not. Whatever.

I've been on an X Files kick lately. At least with X Files, you know that some freaky shit is going to happen - - because that's the nature of the show.

Spin Out!

Last night on I-4 I spun out! It was about 1:30 am. I was driving up the on-ramp and entering the traffic flow, and suddenly, my back-end started swinging up on the left. It had just started to rain lightly. They say that when it first starts to rain, the oil and dirt on the roadway starts to flow off the road and it's really slick. So my rear-end is coming up on my left and I cut the wheel left to try to compensate. Then it just viciously swung back the other way and I tried again to steer into it. That time, though, I spun all the way around and the car stalled and I'm sitting there facing oncoming traffic. I started the car really quick and drove into the center median to get out of the way. Luckily, there was a break in traffic, and I was able to do a U-turn and get it going the right way. Luckily, there was no coppers around to witness this craziness. I'm okay, I think, but I'm kind of rattled. I don't think I was driving too fast or too reckless. It just happened. (Maybe I should slow it down a bit, but if you're not moving fast to get onto I-4, they'll drive right up your buttocks. This being near Daytona and all...they drive pretty fast here. I haven't had a driving incident since high school...back in 1923. I considered myself a pretty good driver. Just goes to show ya...somethin...or not. Right away I started trying to figure out what it meant. Was it a sign, and all that. Is there doom or chaos impending?! But, probably....it's just a thing that happened. If anything, it's a sign to be more careful. Really: it served as a sign to me to stop looking for extra meaning in everything. Or even a sign stop questioning my recent tendency to look for greater meanings in everything. And in the typing of this, and having explained the situation pretty thoroughly, I'm seeing 'signs' that it's time to stop typing this post and wait for the next bloggable personal 'worthwhile' bloggin subject. So okay I will and done.

Driving NORTH soon

Tomorrow or the next day or in some blurry time area between the two, I will make the trek up the mighty I-95 River to North Carolina to see my sister and her branch of family. On my drive, I will see some of the same people from some of the same cars and trucks as we pass each other over and over and see each other at the rest stops. I will find each NPR affiliate in each listening area with ease. I will probably catch some of the wild southern radio preachers for a few minutes at a time when the drive gets anxious or dull. It's an eight or nine hour drive, but I have to stop a lot or my back will be hurting. It will be great to see everybody. I will re-think my current situation in Florida no doubt, and entertain all kinds of ideas about everything. I'll drink lots of coffee for sure. I'll eat a lot.

It's 4:07 am. I've been up for half an hour I guess. The only light is coming off this monitor I'm looking at, watching my typings appear on. There's a little cat meowing somewhere in the dark by my feet. If I put my hand down, she'll surely sniff it and rub against it until I pet her. I could cry about work, but what's the use. I could cry about a crazy relationship that I think just ended, but what's the use. I'm going to be tired at work later, yikes. I've been maxing out the caffeine like a fiend.

Two nights ago I went to this Eckart Tolle reading group, and it's about as positive an experience as I have had in...what...ten years? I love to exaggerate and all, but yeah, it was great. People shared insights and stories inspired by their reading of Eckhart Tolle. A cool thing that happened was: when nobody had anything to say, nobody said anything. It was not awkward. It was perfect. We would kind of meditate on the last thing that was said or just be in that gap in between talkies...that silent, still gap between the talkies. At the beginning of the meeting, the 'guidelines' were read, and one of them that I remember was (roughly): be mindful of why it is that you are speaking. Are you ego trippin, showing what a smarty pants you are (essentially), or is what you are contributing a true contribution to the flow we got going here... I will definitely go back if they'll have me. They're throwing a party, matter of fact, and I think I'll go.

Going shorter and shorter on the haircuts. Will soon be anonymous and bald. Two birthdays I will not be observing this month, and I hate to do my calendar like that, but letting go is letting go. Hurts, but opens up the world to something bigger. I guess. Or. Things rot. Anyways: Music to the rescue today. I was in a hick-ass music store(forgive me), and I found a super terrific find, but I let my friend be the one who claimed it. I'll just listen to it when I hang with him. He likes em more than I do anyway, but I was really really liking this video I saw by them this afternoon on youtube (below). Also, music came to my rescue when I made a sudden turn off on the Kaley Ave exit to hit up Orlando Brewing, where some great and awesome Irish Music was being fiddled and picked. Every second Sunday like that. The music was sooo great, and I horsed around with anonymous other random drunks and knuckleheads who I sometimes see here and there and sort of recognize more and more the more I circulate.

Target: Furniture, Baby, Electronics, Toys

I was in Target the other night and I had a bad case of the can't stop drummin, can't stop struttin, almost even dancin...bobbing up and down pushing my big red Target cart. The emotion/feeling blobs that were bubbling in my bloods were: terror, exuberance, hilarity. It was a weird way to feel - in Target - it was a weird way to be, in America. I needed toothpaste. I grabbed other items, though, because I was there. It felt like people were observing my odd demeanor butyouknowwhatfuckdat. Work is hard. Life is hard. When I get confused or scared or pissed, I just go: “Okay, what’s next? What’s next? Next task, what is it, so I can crush it, what am I doing next: do do do.” Like that. And forget all this self-help crap dammit. It should all be muscle memory by now. It is. I just dance a little. I try to bring it back to the awareness only. Who is it who hears? Who sees? Who feels? Who's doing all the seeing? Who's feeling you up? Not the I. No. Or. I is the awareness. I am the awareness. Either that, or that is total horse shit. And that is very possible. I've been thinking a lot about identity. Am I adding experiences to the basket that is me? Or is that stupid. Do I really have no identity at all? Or am I full of all kinds of me. These words use exageration to get your momentum going I think. They might be holy words, but they exagerate.

Still churnin this stuff out
braver than Burger King.

35 More Years I Guess

The life expectancy for an American male is about 76 years now. So I have another 35 years if things go according to averages. In order to get some perspective, for a good comparison, I tried to think back 35 years - to get a feel for this amount of time. Just for fun. Because I have the day off and I have time today to do this.

Really though I should probably face the fact that I could die any time before or after the 'another-35-year-mark' ...and live my life accordingly...live my life like 'each day is the last' (blah, corny wishy washy horse shit which is true actually, - - 'every day is a gift,' he whimpered, an angelic chorus rising behind him)...sniff...So. ALIVE AND LIVING: not necessarily taking a 23-mile supersonic skydive -but- I should live each day in some kind of a great way...

Anyway: 35 years ago: I actually looked up the the year -- on wikipedia: 1977 ...I don't really remember much from then. And this is good. This should mean that 35 years into the future should seem like a pretty distant conclusion (if that's how it works out) - - because 35 years into the past is barely recollectable.

1977: The only items that I remember from this wikipedia entry:

I remember there being some new weird machine called a Commodore and another called an Apple.
I remember that Jimmy Carter succeeded Gerald Ford as President.
I remember Roots.
I remember there being a new cool spaceship I mean space shuttle.
I remember somebody saying Uranus had rings like Saturn.
I remember my dad watching Luciano Pavarotti on PBS I think.
I remember the Clash blowing up.
Star Wars.
Elvis died.
Members of Lynard Skynard died.

I don't remember much out of that year. I guess 35 years into the future is a 'good amount of time' to have left.

I read and hear a lot of advice about letting go of the stories of the mind, letting go of of this bundle of history we see as our identity. I love my stories a lot though! I used to tell em on this blog all the friggin time. I love my identity way less...but I still cling to it, with a cold dead kryptonite lock. But I guess it's all gotta go, the wise men and wise WOmen say so. This clinging to stories and the clinging to these dopey ideas of self should probably go too, that clinging - it's gotta go. What exactly should stay? Nothing? All of it - let it go - let it flow. I don't know if I'll ever get this spirit thing right or if I should even keep trying. Trying and clinging are the same kind of clinging maybe. I get snagged in a lot of these word tangles. Every thought has a counter thought. Every thought is its own counter thought, because if you let it wind out long enough, it circles back around and bites its own butt like some dumb snake. It's fun trying to figure it out though - finding my balance, my particular blend - it's fun watching what my mind does. Or am I still deriving 'fun' from some kind of struggle. Questioning everything. Until my mind puts the toys down and gets still. Some say a still mind is IT:

To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders. Lao Tzu

This guy says it's just another state



Lots of word tangles. Lots of thinkers thinking or trying not to think.

It's really easy to get carried away with all this stuff.

How to Accept this Moment? - Jeff Foster

Apparently, you are a wide open space. No offense.



If there are words that can be used for it, the words: 'waves on the ocean' seem to fit. You're either an ocean or you are a wide open space or you are everything. Apparently. Acceptance - very important. This thing you are witnessing, this experience (bad or good) is appearing - the 'universe' is allowing it...might as well accept it...all of it. Deep acceptance.

"What you are has already said 'yes' to these thoughts, these sensations, these feelings...even this pain...." --Jeff Foster

Real Life Impacts on On-Line Life

The title pretty much says it. Done. Signing off now....haha. I locked this blog down for so long and almost deleted it. Then I came back to it. I don't know why. I wonder about all the other bloggers I used to blog with so much in the past. I check in now and then, here and there, on other people's blogs. I'm so busy with off-line life lately though. I'm not keeping up with twitter...I barely check personal emails...I've seen a lot of bloggers' activity decline, I've seen a lot of blogs get deleted. If graphed bloggin activity, I guess it'd be pretty spikey. I guess my life is pretty spikey too. I get into routines and I break them.

I haven't made a playlist in a while.

And it's fun.

Photos

You'll notice I've titled this post 'Photos' but there are no photos.

I was just now thinking of the constant activity of my brain as this: Someone is constantly passing me photos and asking me to look at them. My brain is constantly handing me images and asking me to look at them. "Look at them. Watch the story of each unfold. Let it take over your entire attention. Dwell on it. Wallow in it. Fume over it."

I found out today that a lady I work with is going after an MFA in poetry. This lady has two kids and a full-time job (and not an easy job). And she is going after a freakin MFA. I felt a mix of feelings while talking to her about it: jealousy, admiration, regret...blah blah blah

My attitude towards writing has really changed. The compulsion is still there, but my attitude has changed. I am not sure what this means, but this description seems to fit. And I'll probably delete this post anyway, like I do.

I had a fun, long conversation with her, though, about poetry and writing, and then somebody scary came into the room, and I directed the conversation out the door and to a prompt but polite conclusion in the hall. It felt good to talk about all that stuff. First time in a long time. It felt a little silly too though. I used to be all about the writing shit, but now, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. The idea of submitting stuff to journals or going after an advanced degree or doing anything writerly like that....it seems like somebody else's life. But the compulsion to write stuff is still VERY STRONG in this one.

I am not sure exactly what I want to do with this compulsion. I should deal with it like any other disease, probably. Whenever I have relapses, I should seek treatment.

I still have this blog. This is a good place for bloodletting and purification...to deal with that nasty writing bug.

You see: I have to write...even if it results in my being homeless and having to write on old Whopper wrappers with pencils stolen from lottery ticket counters.

'The Walking Videos'

I wish I had this attitude when I missed the bus.




I'm really into what this guy has to say lately:

"See we can worry about every little thing that's happening or we can stop being so focused on the individual appearances and their descriptions and the judgements we have about them. You know they just arise and we can either focus on them or we can relax, let them be, rejoice, recognize that awareness is not affected by all the changes, and that all changes are pure confirmation of unaffected presence."

Growth Isn’t Always Linear: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

I posted what I posted last time, and then I came across this article on a site that I read and love a lot, tinybuddha.com:

Growth Isn’t Always Linear: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

As Sour as I Was When I Started

Am I just as sour as I was when I started? It all started when I realized I was getting way too pissed off at other drivers. This is back when I had that hour commute....and all that time to think. This is back in 2007 I think, or 2008. I read a tall stack of anger management books, writings on depression, anxiety books, i'm okay you're okay and the like, emotional iq, blah blah psychology stuff, Buddhist writings...a lot of it. That's all I read for a while there. Has it done me any good? Did it do me good for a while and then stop doing me good? Did I overdo it? Am I in a temporary funk? Am I good on some levels, but I never did fully lick that road rage thing? My soul is okay, but I'm still a grouch on some levels. No visible change, but underneath, I'm grand? Or.... Still depressed. Still anxious. Am I locked on negative stuff, identifying with it...my LETTING GO valves are clogged. Sometimes it seems like I've made no progress. Or maybe it is this: I lapse. I lapse, and due to the progress I made before, I recover quicker. Or something. Don't know what. You never do away with that negative stuff, I know. But. Why am I sitting here thinking about it and typing about it... Why did I feel the urge to type this?

Lately I'm into this guy below, and maybe the whole problem (or appearance of a problem)is this: It's like other times when I really stirred up my spiritual stuff...it shakes a lot of stuff loose. Anyway, yes, typing all this stuff is already making me feel better. This blog has always been and will continue to be my dumping ground for garbage in my brains. And my place for personal reminders to myself or anybody who cares to read em: Sometimes you need to revisit the old lessons. Sometimes you find a new source or teacher that rehashes old lessons but who brings new stuff, shaking the whole thing up in your head....

Sleep

Under current conditions, sleep is a seriously hot commodity to me. I just ain't getting enough of it. Some nights there is a reason for no sleep. Some nights there is not.

Tonight (this early morning) there is no good reason for me not to be sleeping. It's just stress. My brain is raising every negative point it can think of, and it is steadily streaming this stuff for me.

I have to step back and determine this: Is this something I want? Do I want to bombard myself with negative crap all the time? Do I really have a choice? Can I choose otherwise? Sometimes the negative crap is there. Sometimes it is not. Why does it descend on me at certain times? ...usually when I'm trying to sleep...

What's the solution? Do I need to think through it? Or do I need to stop all the thinking and let go? Or is there some magical combination of thinking/not thinking?

Sometimes I just lay there and meditate. Or, I try to. Sometimes the thoughts just flood in too hard, it seems, for mediation. So I meditate on that. I meditate on this flood of thoughts: what is it, why does it come...

I think it descends on me in the mornings because I'm half asleep and haven't had time to get my mind going, get my 'defenses' up. Why do I need defenses all the time though?

Near misses with disaster, other people's disasters, implied disasters and a lens that is stuck focused on stupid stuff, a head jammed in a stupid-head mode, a severe perceived time deficit -these are just a few of my least favorite things lately - - but all these things serve as a reminders that brains is like a garden, constantly in need of care...or like an automobile needing maintenance now and then. My Maintenance Required light is on, but it ain't serious.

I have to check in on my mind every now and then. I have to check and see how it's doing. Is it rattling around inside its four walls rambling and fuming? Is it creating a bunch of goofy shit? Is it giving energy to a bunch of ghost trouble? Or is it seated nice and calm on a cushion, empty of all negative crap, connected to the world by not trying to exist separately?

So I'm slowing down today to check in on my mind...listening to slow music...watching the right videos and enjoying cool temperatures and breezes resulting from a nearby hurricane that won't hit here.

Evil Spirits or Something

At first I thought somebody was smoking dope. I was standing in this little spiritual bookstore that I go to sometimes, just browsing. I smelled smoke - some kind of twangy smoke - while I was standing at a bookshelf. I looked over, and the store clerk was walking around with a bundle of smoldering sage. She was going around the store, waving this big, honkin doobie-looking bundle of burning sage - waving it all around and jamming it into corners, reaching on tip-toes - making sure she didn't miss any spots.

Then a guy came out, I think he's one of the owners. He asked her what the hell she was doing. She said that a customer had called the store and said that something 'bad' or 'evil' had followed her home and gotten into her home. She could feel it, the customer. The customer said she was pretty sure that this evil presence or following or whatever - she was pretty sure that it followed her home from the bookstore. So the store clerk was smoking it out with burning sage.

I was going to offer some commentary, but a bunch of weird shit just happened around my apartment, no shit. Ants. I mean, I knew there was a slight ant problem here...but... The timing. And an ant just crawled out on my screen.

I had this one donut in a donut box on the counter that I was looking forward to eating. I just took a break from typing this goofy post to go get that donut, and there were ten zillion ants all over it. Fuck! Evil.

Armadillos This Time

I was outside talking with Mike, Helen and Tim last night, talking about everything. We were standing off the sidewalk, between cars. Talking talking talking, and then, Helen saw something moving, twenty - thirty yards away. She thought it was a couple of ducks. Whatever, we didn't think much more of it. Then, as we're standing there between cars, two armadillos ran out from under one car on one side of us, and they ducked under the car on the other side of us, ran by us two feet away. We're were like...What the hell was that?!

I don't know if I've ever seen a live armadillo walking around like that...sadly, I usually see them belly up next to the road with those big turkey buzzards or whatever yankin their guts out feasting out. You see, armadillos are not very good at crossing streets. Moreover, Florida drivers - a cruel lot - are not very sympathetic to the armadillos' lack of skill at crossing roads. In fact, they're not very sympathetic to armadillos, like, in general. Mean.

Anyway.

Got no plans for the big holiday weekend, Stan. Avoiding the crowds. Avoiding the wrath of the great glowing orb in the sky that'd like to scorch my skins. It'd be nice to find some Irish music somewhere...a friggin guitar man or a guitar WOman...sit outside (with bug stuff applied to my skins) and a couple beers...maybe somewhere. Continue my experience as a human among humans.

Bears. And an Alligator

It's always an adventure when my sister comes to town, a fun adventure. We went to three beaches, we went to a Celtic music festival, we saw bears and alligators.



It's always a party when the bears show up. I should have shot footage of the people who were gawking at the bears, instead of the bears, the people were even more tripped out and trippy than the bears.

Last night we saw one bear, a smaller bear, by the dumpster...we were watching it...and we saw a lady approaching the area with her dog. We tried to wave her off and warn her - - and next thing you know, an even bigger bear came up out of the woods behind her...not chasing her, but walking behind her toward the dumpster for some chow...the lady scooped up her dog and hid between some lumber stacks nearby. I yelled to her that there were two bears...the lady was confused and scared shitless. I walked up about twenty yards away from where she was hiding- because I knew exactly where both bears were and pretty much could tell which direction the bears were going to take off in if things got too tense - and I told the lady to come this way come this way - toward me...away from the bears' escape route into the woods. So she came out of her hiding spot and joined our little band of gawkers (my sister, her husband, me and some other lady. The scared lady with the little dog cussed up a storm and walked off, truly pissed about there being bears all over the place. She was out today too though, getting her gawk on with her daughter and the little dog, when I took these videos. I pet her dog and talked to her and her daughter a little, along with my sister and her husband and five other people...standing around there. There were probably about twenty or thirty people off and on checking it out, arriving, leaving, tripping out about the bears and getting social in this weird, goofy and/or dangerous situation.

There were lots of people out photographing and shooting video...and I felt a little exploitive and whatever but I couldn't peel myself away. Something told me to not be out there but I didn't listen to it. I just like looking at the bears...and I always make sure I have a way to get out of the way and not get in the bears' way.

There was another lady who lives in a first floor unit near me - we stood there talking while one of the bears was feasting out...like right outside her screened in patio. She was kind of freaked out that the bears cut through right near her patio with that flimsy screen...We talked and talked and talked.

She was also weirded out by some of the people who live in our complex...I told her it's quiet and I've had no troubles and blah blah. She told me some dude who walks around with no shirt on and all ...the guy been bangin on her door trying to insert himself in her bees wax or whatever and so on...a guy with a crazy story: pain killer taker ex-cop turned muscle hippie who speed-walks around with no shirt on and joggin shorts with no underwears underneath yuck so that his...you know...kind of ...you know - around in there yuck puke...not that I or you or anybody wanted to hear about that shit and/or least of all see it...

This is nothing but a rambling post I threw together because I wanted to post videos I took of bears and I wanted to give some back-story, but I'm also really tired.

And here's a video of a little alligator I saw earlier in the day.

I found this.

I was with my neighbor, walking his dog, and we walked by a dumpster. It's one of those dumpsters with a compactor, and there's a little control panel on the side. On top of that control panel, I saw the above Angel.

It is not the most trying time for my family, but it is pretty trying - - there is some sketchy stuff happening to one of my clan, and a couple of us are trying to make a plan.

I don't usually believe in 'Signs' and stuff like that, but in this case...it's just that...it's a pretty odd coincidence. I guess. Or something.

If my mom would have found an Angel like this - in a place like that - in times like these...it would have really blown her mind. For sure. If she would have found it after my brother died, it would have blown her mind big time and for real and she would have been sure that he put it there for her to find. I know that much for sure.

When I found it, it blew my mind a bit...and now I'm thinking about it...and blogging about it...after not having posted a durn thing to this blog in...how long?...after having this jonk locked down...how long? And I come back with a religious-y post? What the...

Things are just as stressful (or not) as they were before I locked the blog down...and I don't know why I locked the blog down and I don't know why I opened the blog back up.

My neighbor dragged me to Mass on Sunday. It's the first time I'd been in a Catholic Church in a while. The last time was when my sister was down, and we drove all over Florida like we do when she comes, and we went to the Church attached to her old Catholic School on the gulf side, Saint Jude's, in St. Pete.

As I walked up to the Church this last Sunday, there was a feeling of familiarity, even though I've never gone in there in my life.

I took a religion course in college, it was actually under the philosophy curriculum. In that course, all we did was set about defining three words: faith, belief and disbelief. We read stuff from all the big dogs in philosophy, you can imagine. It was intense. It was interesting when we set about defining faith. What is it, exactly.

For me, when I use reason, religion just don't make no sense...some of it...a lot of it. I got on the Buddhism thing in order to try to get my mind right and all, but it is practical and readily practice-able and hands on and easily usable for dealing with stress and sadness and craving and so on. With Christianity, I have doubt. I don't want the doubt. I don't summon the doubt. The doubt just surfaces in my brains...I can't help it. I think that as far as Christianity goes - or any religion out there that might be 'true' - my faith does not come out of reason, out of reasonable thinking. It's a gut thing. It's an instinct. My thinking just gets in the way of it...or...splashes around it, not really altering it. I don't know if it's my thing or the 'true' thing is Christianity or what, but I know that when I walk by a Church I get a warm feeling...from...somewhere. I know that when I say blasphemous shit, I laugh about it, but deep down there's somethin...sayin...somethin...like...Hey, uh...um

As usual, I don't know what the h___ heck I'm talking about, and I'm just pounding away at the keyboard...hands doing one thing (typing), mind doing one thing (fumbling for words), instinct doing not all that much (except sending slightly nervous tingles out now and then)

Anyway, so I kept the Angle. I put on my mantle in between two items I cherish, a lighthouse I got for my mom for her birthday one year, and a painting I received as a wedding present from one of my favorite artists in the whole world.

I thought about it more, and I have the following rambling, stream of thought to share if you'll allow it. A recent 'art project/hobby/stunt/prank' thing that I have been doing lately is to affix unlikely items to walls or windows or wherever in public using small adhesive pads...items like...chop sticks, for example, or little tiny plastic guns that action figures carry. I thought, wow, what if I go to the religious shop and buy a bunch of little angels and start leaving them in places. Would I be a terrible person playing a prank? Or am I impelled to do this, I, myself, thinking it's a prank, but in a bigger reality, it is a good thing to do because when somebody finds it, they'll feel what I felt today when I found my Angel...and it wall all be part of a divine action that I am just a small piece of. And then I thought, woah, maybe this is what just happened to me! I got spirit pranked.

Too much thinkin, man.