4/1/16: the musings of an April fool
While watching the premier of CNN’s Eighties series last night, I started thinking about how generations, like cycles, are merely reactions from the previous generation/or actions. That whole cause and effect theory….snow to snowball to avalanche to placid lake to clouds to rain to snow....
There’s a trance one enters when glaring into the glass tube of a washing machine at the local laundry mat. That continually spinning and constant swirling and dizzy twirling around and around and around, hypnotically. That cycle. It’s taking that perfect immovable sphere of the Tao and spinning it like Pat Sajak, whirling forever forward from a forever forward first mover.
A Hail Mary is what it can seem like for us practitioners down here on planet earth. Trying to connect our mortal flesh to our immortal soul; connecting with the Divine-from us here; on the vine. Do our word-chained prayers photosynthesize into a lightness of being? Are we in the end zone? On the field? Still in the game? Touching down…..
Sometimes when relieving myself on the toilet I’m tempted to sit down on the plastic transparent waste basket next to me and just for once-Allow myself to express things in a completely different manner; I think about this a lot; changing our routines. Just let it go-right there in the waste basket; however it pleases to fall…..what’s been holding me back all this time?...
Be it a click, a tap or a swoosh-every few seconds, the changing of our screens to newer content, newest images, the next site, newer breaking news-too much stimuli.......(as you stare at this blog, ha....I'm that whitewashed tomb) The disappearance of Adulthood.
Our eyes flicker like a Clockwork Orange, pinned down and forced a constantly changing stimuli.
Concentration and focusing are those by-gone highways filled with their decrepit diners and vacant motor lodges; it’s the superhighway for now, their with bright,shiny neon billboards...and aint no time to spare.
Our eyes flicker like a Clockwork Orange, pinned down and forced a constantly changing stimuli.
Concentration and focusing are those by-gone highways filled with their decrepit diners and vacant motor lodges; it’s the superhighway for now, their with bright,shiny neon billboards...and aint no time to spare.
Can I just say that instead of the news always having to be breaking on our screens, and always flashing in emergency red letters; let’s call it broken news. ‘It done broke a long time ago’.
The older I get the more I think about the weather. What do the elderly in the Sahara think about?
If the rich dream of a convertible red sports car for midlife crisis, what do the poor dream? Or the working class?...
