Thanks, the beginning of your book was fantastic. The expansion of space idea is opening my eyes, as have RascalPuff's similar ideas. I like the part about the stream's small debris collecting near the larger, and its comparison to gravity. It is well written and in understandable language (just a few typos to fix), and perhaps you should post it as a ToeQuest article. Can't wait for the section on mind, etc. Is any of that ready yet?
I ran my hand along a picket fence,
Counting heartbeats and running like a child,
Still carefully not stepping on the cracks,
Noting the furrowed ants bustling, thriving,
Wondering at a old chestnut tree that
Had somehow survived the blight, towering and
Ever so gently tilting the walking plane—
Presenting me with more ancient notions:
Of tire swings, swaying, hung from low branches,
Of a lemonade stand secure in the shade.
My youth came flooding back to me, into me,
And so I continued to give it life:
The back door of a bread wagon opened,
Releasing the fresh-baked aroma;
Mother came out with a handful of dimes,
Buying what would’ve taken three hours to bake.
On the houses’ steps rested newspapers
And the sturdy rounded bottles of milk,
Compliments of Elsie the cow, truly
A vision from the grazings of childhood.
We played games on these walkways, like hopscotch,
Roller skating, and marbles. My bag of jewels:
A cool green cat’s-eye, a big blue boulder,
And varicolored pockmarked throwaways.
There—a lush garden lovingly attended
By an old lady, accompanied by bees
And butterflies, all of which caused further
Indulgences in my flights of fancy:
As children—and now if we’re young at heart,
We’d pause in play when that first butterfly
Fluttered by, that fragile ephemeral
Vision of something almost heavenly—
A flower floating on the air, perhaps,
Signaling that our endless summer had
Begun, that something called “school” was now an
Artifact of ancient history.
Did the butterfly first arise from the
Soul of the pansy, before human times—
One of those edenesque transformations
That was inexplicably magical?
The metamorphosis is still charming,
Albeit but from a caterpillar;
Amazingly, delicate as they seem,
They flutter all the way to Mexico,
And take their sweet time, alighting here-there,
Meandering from plant to bush to flower:
We learn that there’s more fun along the way—
The journey as rewarding as “getting there”.
During our carefree days we’d swim the pool,
Diving off the side after pennies thrown,
Retrieving them from the bottomless deep
Near the big drains—then rising up, breathless.
Still at the garden, my mind back from flight,
The gardener beckoned me inward, and,
I leaned over the fence to smell a flower,
And a thousand memories reoccurred:
Each Morning Glory blossom lives but for
A single day, and is replaced by
Another, each in succession shining
In its morning glory, wilting in noon’s heat—
Withering quickly in the afternoon,
Then languishing throughout the evening—
Their happy message to us being that
Another day will always come on.
The Amaranth intrigues—its leaves never fade,
Even long after death, ever remaining
Vivid red—could it be, somehow, that a
Portion of the infinite yet lives on?
There, the blinding luminosity of
Sunflowers; we dried the seeds and ate them,
Each still a glowing ember of memory
Of the bright days among a thousand suns.
I drank up Buttercup portions of the
Bright yellow light from the elfin goblets—
And entered the realm of fairies, pixies,
Fays, trolls, goblins, brownies, gremlins, and sprites.
We had cherries, and a grape arbor, too—
Eating them fresh, competing with squirrels
And birds, always forgetting to wash them,
Sour as they were, then spit out the seeds.
I walked on and saw a lake surrounded by
Old and broken down vacation cabins.
Of course we were never “there yet” when we
Asked, but soon dozed off, tired of asking.
We dug the worms at night, keeping them moist,
And got up with the sun to fish, and then
Skinned them, and cooked them for lunch or dinner—
This to me is America Remembered.
Dad was always out fishing—my brother, too,
And me less often. Now I clearly see
That fishing has little to do with fish,
But with cool breezes, moist air, peace, and quiet.
I wore my life preserver all day long—
Once I leaned over for a closer look
And fell in, swimming with the fishes,
Then pushed up, my life jacket now broken in.
We puttered to a mysterious island;
There we found—nothing, but camped and had lunch,
Feeling like pirates, and telling no one
About it until a whole day later.
At night we watched the bears forage for scraps
At the garbage dump; however, one night
The bins were empty when the bears came out—
Then they all turned and looked over at us!
Mom used to say “Come in out of the rain”,
But nowadays, the sun is dangerous,
Unless we wear sunblock, so she says,
“Have enough sense to get out of the sun!”
After a storm, when the sun returned,
We’d run out to see if there was a rainbow—
That shimmering otherworldly vision of
The colorful secret of simple white light.
How are colors made from three primaries?
Why is the sky blue? What unknown colors hide?
Well, color was invented in the 60’s—
Just look at TV shows made before then!
To keep cool we once carried pinwheels, fans,
Parasols, and sucked on a piece of ice.
Now, with TV, internet, and cool air,
We stay inside of the house all day long.
By eavesdropping on the party line, we could
Hear real scandals and idle rumors, and,
If it was more interesting than watching
The grass grow, we stayed to hear the whole story.
Before the invention of the telephone,
All was conveyed by tell-a-woman, but, now,
We only answer to computers, saying,
“To talk to a human being, please hang up”.
The corner market carried everything—
Eden’s shiny red apples calling out,
“Touch me, take me, eat me”, and, soon, trouble
Was at hand but it was crispy, sweet.
I rode my bike everywhere—I always crashed
On the killer hill, on roller skates, too;
Now I drive my car there, carefully—
Yes, I’m finally getting over the hill!
Always picked up a penny for good luck,
And pins, too, for even more good fortune.
I found a horseshoe all of the sudden—
‘Twas bad luck ‘twas still on the horse’s foot!
Rural cemeteries were parks, too, back then,
So we played near the duck pond, giving them bread.
Some years later I returned, like a duck
That had been away for too many summers.
There were monkey bars for the climbers, and
Seesaws tottering for the restless, and
A refreshing sprinkler to cool off in, but
There was always some kid sitting on it.
We made greeting cards, keepsakes, with ribbons,
Lace, assorted scraps, and original words.
Now, we buy ready made cards with fluffy words—
In a day or two they are in the trash.
Simple pleasures are as free as ever:
The sights, sounds, and scents of nature; picnics,
Reading, writing, giving, riding, playing—
It’s hard to ever get bored, isn’t it!
of course . how does one become conscious without the movement of matter though?
Quote:
At great depth there is absolute stillness and ubiquitous
atonement,it is only on the tangible physical plane where the illusion of time and
space exist that there is movement and motioning.
which is based on meditation. a stillness of thought
but in the dynamics of the Universe and the energy/matter within it , practically speaking , there is NO such thing really as " absolute stillness ".
Hello there north,you asked "how does one become conscious without the movement
of matter though"
That is a good question north,the answer lies in the very word "one"what do we understand "one" to be?
I am one,and "I" transcend matter,time,and space,therefore,I am,within the eternal now,
and without need of motion,as "I" am ubiquitous,now I am also within temporal space
and also informed of dence matter,so here in the illusary relative universe "things" are
very different from the "Thing" of the absolute.
Motion is the illusion that manifested existence creates to perform its thoughtful intentions
and service the evolutionary arc of which we are currently now all experiencing.
regards michael.
Humilty,coupled with boldness,surprises truth to
reveal herself?
Hello there north,you asked "how does one become conscious without the movement
of matter though"
That is a good question north,the answer lies in the very word "one"what do we understand "one" to be?
I am one,and "I" transcend matter,time,and space,therefore,I am,within the eternal now,
and without need of motion,as "I" am ubiquitous,now I am also within temporal space
and also informed of dence matter,so here in the illusary relative universe "things" are
very different from the "Thing" of the absolute.
Motion is the illusion that manifested existence creates to perform its thoughtful intentions
and service the evolutionary arc of which we are currently now all experiencing.
regards michael.
what I mean't mkirkpatrick is that without movement there is no physical form. the interactions of energy/matter. if the were absolutely still , nothing but the base atoms would exist. there would be NO macro physical things.
inotherwords the " one " needs a platform so to speak , a place to put ones feet down.
what I mean't mkirkpatrick is that without movement there is no physical form. the interactions of energy/matter. if the were absolutely still , nothing but the base atoms would exist. there would be NO macro physical things.
inotherwords the " one " needs a platform so to speak , a place to put ones feet down.
I understand what you are saying north,and I agree with you,without movement there
is no physical form,however I see motion being "brought into play"so to speak,via the
Proytle atom,motion eminating from within this atom,via the noumena,to form and "inform" the embryonic physical universe as it "infolds" on its involutionary arc.
regards michael,
Humilty,coupled with boldness,surprises truth to
reveal herself?
I understand what you are saying north,and I agree with you,without movement there
is no physical form,however I see motion being "brought into play"so to speak,via the
Proytle atom,motion eminating from within this atom,via the noumena,to form and "inform" the embryonic physical universe as it "infolds" on its involutionary arc.
regards michael,
first define " proytle " I cannot find the meaning of this word in any of my dictionaries
noumena > defined as > a posited object or event as it appears in itself independent of perception by the senses.
involutionary> defined as , in this case > inward curvature or penetration.
Re: It's About Time. -
08-04-2007, 07:55 AM
Linear Mode
