Watching the Wheelzzzz...
Breathing in this dream, floating in this stream, drifting on the whims of light, seeking shiny sparkles, contact, connection, release...
Thu, September 18, 2008 - 2:21 PM
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We forget in order to remember... We remember in order to forget... Thus the Wheel of Dharma turns. This life is the surface reflection of all that is unseen. Shall we dare to pierce the veil of illusion and dance at the source? Shimmering images on the rim of a wine glass, luscious scents, sights, sounds, sexual sensations... all passing awa... read more 
In the Future I see...
Mon, May 5, 2008 - 3:24 PM
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Our Dream is Reality... Enoch holds the keys, if we can only find the way... In Bhutan the Monks pray for the daemons, for our daemons are our liberators. They traditionally set themselves apart from negative influences, and don't roll over and let themselves be raped or pillaged by the deluded, but they love their worthy adversaries as a suffering emanation of their very selves. In Buddhism the world is a reflection of our own making. Gautama, the Tatagat... read more 
Constantly risking absurdity
Wed, January 16, 2008 - 8:23 AM
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and death whenever he performs above the heads of his audience the poet like an acrobat climbs on rime to a high wire of his own making and balancing on eyebeams above a sea of faces paces his way to the other side of the day performing entrachats and sleight-of-foot tricks and other high theatrics and all without mistaking any thing for what it may not be For he's the super realist who must perforce perceive taut truth before the taking of ea... read more 
Practice is that which is repeated.
Thu, January 3, 2008 - 6:40 PM
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There is no good Practice... There is no Bad Practice... There is only Practice... And when Practice Makes Perfect, one has reached the end... ...only to begin again. ~jj 
From Twelfth Night...
Thu, November 8, 2007 - 11:40 AM
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VIOLA ---------- This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit. ~William Shakespeare
A Solitary Muse
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