honest-tune-gosh

been listening to this song pretty much ALL DAY!
with the light again. delirium is wondrous. the shadows glaring in such specific ways, saying hello to the sun and wind without a murmur...



enjoy

as always!

light and love to all

The inspiration of freedom through explorative madness

This man is a true mystic, innovator, explorer, inexhaustible curiosity and wonder (wander as well), and, to me, a true master of the English Language (manipulator and mindfucker) through the precise manipulation of both spoken and written words. Thelema was his passion...no, beyond that, his life.

Please check out a book of his if you feel so intrigued as to who/what-beast has influenced so much (creativity, philosophy [the disintegration of it, to dissipate confinement], and mostly how to loose the facade of self and belief) of my life and being.

In light.

a greeting: "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law"
a reply: "Love is the law. Love under will."

Thelema...do some research if you feel so inclined

With the light, a loved one, and nature...inspired

Amazing video of an amazing artist



enjoy

texture like sun

warmth spreading, embraced by the twinkling glimmers of creativity. Cloud shaped skies reach out and the numbness hums a melody in serene tones, a soft opera with the voices of the wind. With each beat of the heart emits a divine allusion towards the coming shape of change, transformations aligning with space/time moon cycles. Lunar lights glisten, raining down with gravity's aide to enshroud the silhouette of the higher self magnetism in stardust.
where is it that all these borders came from? sprung up, this invisibility, like the confinement of incarceration, both physical and mental, forcing the boxes, the limited reach of context and the vernacular we're able to explore: infinite potential wrangled, caged and stolen of all conscious freedom. This underlying poison, the leech of life-energy, vampiric, oh how they make us believe in what's a mere fraction of actuality! The hope. The availability in creative originality. Unlocked potential forced to believe that 'a key' is the way to be free yet not realizing the impact of the implication that a key is even needed, by proxy, already imprisoned unknowingly.
Imbibed in the blood flow, the directions and vectors, trajectories in all directions, meeting, leaving, simultaneously. Conscious of each other, quantumly entangled, a form of universal connectivity, sharing being. This is all so simple to see, the calm flow, the desire to live on, it's all happening, constantly, within each of us. Relativity in clarity, face forward naked flash of an irresistible honesty.
Let's all share this.
Let's all hope for this.
Let's all become this.
for we already are,
just in wait to accept it
all.

Potions and Tats

here's some recent photographs captured while journeying...psychedeRic!



and the finished tattoo. Sak Yant style

obsession: sincerity

I don't have much to offer as a citizen...
or as a person in this modern race,
aside from honesty and humanity.
connecting hearts and minds alike.
If this is all I have to offer,
would you still
care
to know?

slumbers

How long have I been asleep? Un-everything and seeping in corners so abundant that one can't find a difficult way out of it all, like breathing, coming natural and passing with the ease of swaying motions. Confined only by the willingness to abruptly shake and rattle the silly shapes we draw of our lives, hindered by the words we watch ourselves speak. Piano sonatas play with the rain. A gaze to change the essence of a day. Where was it all mistaken for just another sequence of nows and entwined with the consistency of expectations? Heaving each hope to stay alive, encapsulated in a couch hidden by the drawn shades, festering thought provokes a fractal array, we stay away. Demagnetized by some static disruption, the desire to be plucked from time seems to be a conscious set: intention-thought-motion -- in no specific order, rather simultaneous in structure. Spanning out beyond the latent measurements of time, which causes irregularities in the constant presence of 'being' (thought, creativity, expansion, retraction), the essence of interacting with the self which is only seemingly, reaching a point of escape velocity. Snapped-rubberband-pop-action-energetic emission, to become the commissary to provoke those still sleeping, wake up! The alarms have been snoozed perpetually, phone-ringers silenced and gagged by all means, this forced silence, this space between breaths, this space...causing a tumultuous wake in sentimentality, in honesty, breaking the very means by which we communicate before words, together, silently. In dreams the distance is but a notion, loose and malleable, but the structure we unconsciously agree on while waking can only be trifle philosophy, a void of formulated consistency shouldering its own weight. The paradox can stretch on and we can also continue to slumber, waiting, getting over things, settle into changes...but it still remains a constant, this shifting, this becoming. Blind irregularities embrace and gather to loose form and become a flow, a wave function of organic matter. Fluctuating awake, smiling.

eye on

Wandering in a frustrated compound fraction of a consciousness, deliberately distanced from sensing what feelings may be, what could be. Possibilities become the tormentor, potential energy withers and becomes nothing more than wonder, the stillness of a gargantuan imprint making the most silent murmur the ears have ever heard. Distance, unreachable and mistaken for what's honest, and nothing can awaken this endless dream. Harmonious horrors and the scattered remnants of what once could have been cut away at my feet, leaving the scars and pain of each day, here, unable to move, directionless blunder. Caressing the notions of disappearing so no one can wonder, to become the lost memory which eats away at time's essence, a consequence which only behaves as the answer to a forgotten question. Cast beyond the island of exile, a hindrance bellows in masked names, it's all so foreign and grows to be more so with each morning wake. Shivering amidst the very fire to be lit but all the matches have found their way through the cracked pavement leading to joy, and so aimlessly I ponder what trash bin to make my home. They know not the true insanity that carries this mind along the wafts and breezes of the insatiable collision of a life alone, an eternity drenched in the colorless stagger I mistakenly call my existence. Pardon the handicapped inability. Forgive the scantily diminishing center of what was supposed to be my heart. Ignore the static, confused thoughts I assumed were my own. Translated to music, we always hope alone. For that's what we are: misguided translations of a frightened child's hope for life to be better.

Herro Inspiration Surge

A rather odd flight east, before I could drift into the space I prefer on plane rides - passin out and waking up at my destination, a man on his way back to his seat collapses right beside my aisle seat and has a slight seizure. A doctor/passenger helped him, turns out he has an internal defibrillator, diabetes, obesity and I'm sure an array of other health problems along with forgetting to take his medication...and we wonder why the world looks down on Americans. Creating an odd energy, sleep wasn't peaceful by any means. I woke up about an hour out of NY with the most nauseous feeling which lasted most of the few first hours. Then the snow came bringing unique flakes of inspiration which gathered to embrace me in and lull the recent lack of said inspiration and joy to an unconscious death.

Having loved friends is precious. Peep my abode for the next few weeks

what y'all know about Bast?

or the homie Gary?

and this is what the morning brought

utter beauty pillowed around me. Blessed. Lucky. Graciously smiled upon. Choose any other synonyms and they could only begin to skim how wondrous it is to be.

light to each of you!