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Erecting walls of floppy-headed laughter

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Greetings, Sentients [05 Nov 2033|03:33am]
Welcome to my apartments in the World above the Words. Please make yourself at home. Refreshments are available as per your wonts (and wanton wonts I am sure they are). Feel free to make use of the wandering waitrcritters and remember, when the waitcritters toll, the waitcritters toll for thee -:)

All I ask in return is that if you wish to Friend me or use one of my posts please, ask me first?

As I have stated in my LJ's front page my LJ, except where I state otherwise, is published under a Creative Commons License. Please read the link. If you include all of one of my posts that falls under the license, please include the Creative Commons License link I just showed you along with my name -:)

I thank you.

Also, I would be overjoyed if you could spin a tale, tell me what brings you my way, stitch a yarn. I find it fascinating the tales that others bring -:)
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from An-Open-Letter-to-Greyface-Dept or the 21st-Century-Actually-Begins-Dept. [12 Jan 2015|02:41am]
[ mood | Exuberant ]

Dear Greyface,

You might have heard aboot the kerfuffle in Paris; a few lovely human beings were murdered because some other humans beings couldn't stand being mocked...

Well, greyface, you've lost. Look at what is happening: marches by the millions of humans of all sorts, all races, creeds, religions, senses of humour, genders, philosophies, ages, all in support of MOCKING

Some Leaders of Human Beings have also joined in these parades supporting MOCKING, like
Angela Merkel, Benjamin Netanyahu - בנימין נתניהו, Ibraham Boubakar Keita of Mali, Mahmoud Abbas of Palestinian Authority, Donald Trusk EU council President, Francois Holland, David Cameron, Mariano Rajoy, Ahmet Davutoglu, King Abdulla II, Queen Raina

So sorry, Greyface, you shriveled murderous twerp.

This is how we fight for the right to mock -- with love and compassion and trust and courage and spirit.

We will not give in to fear.

The paroxysm of fear & mistrust & cynicism engendered by some on September 11th is giving way...

Greyface, you will not win. Humanity will win the global right to MOCK, to burgeon, for people to be able to exist without being murdered for showing that LIFE IS A RIDE and AWESOME and PRETTY KEEN.

Much laughter, much love,

(feel free to share this)
thanks to dad for putting me on to this story


here is the entire human solidarity support of mocking

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Lo! Look to the skies! Nature fires another warning shot across our bow! [15 Feb 2013|05:26am]
[ mood | awe ]


(coincidence being what it is i was just viewing that above image courtesy of Agent Martinhesselius too)

the reports and videos are coming in. very, very impressive footage from very different angles.

thank g_odness it didn't detonate closer to the ground or actually hit a populated area (as has happened in the past..check out the Brazillian Tunguska for a more recent one...)

it was a gorgeous fireball; here you can see it enter our atmosphere

and even though it was kms up, in this video you get to see the effects of the sonic boom (check your volume; the sonic boom is quite loud)

i never thought i'd be around to see something like this

it is an exciting time to be alive

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choosing a life with meaning [17 Nov 2012|10:10am]
[ mood | transforthing ]

(excerpt from a much longer talk)

(perhaps this will help Agent Level_Head grok more what I was trying to get with my riffing on USA being a 'religion')


"Scientists at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute have found that when just 10 percent of the population holds an unshakable belief, their belief will always be adopted by the majority of the society. The scientists, who are members of the Social Cognitive Networks Academic Research Center (SCNARC) at Rensselaer, used computational and analytical methods to discover the tipping point where a minority belief becomes the majority opinion. The finding has implications for the study and influence of societal interactions ranging from the spread of innovations to the movement of political ideals."

-- from here.

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a letter to cancer [12 Nov 2012|01:28am]
Dear Cancer,


If I could, I would collect all of you and no, not destroy you, but lock you up in a special place where you would never do harm again. I would write into every nanoangstrom of your substance all of the suffering, all of the pain, all of the grief, all of the sadness, all of the sheer pointless agony that you have wrought so that you, forever, because hey, you're immortal cancer, will feel this. And I will make sure that, when the heat death of universe happens, when the last bit of matter ebbs away into feeble and cold energy, that you still exist, so that you will never forget.


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bearing witness [12 Nov 2012|01:20am]
w o w

fuck cancer

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in this moment [11 Nov 2012|06:19am]
on this moment of moments,
this perfect moment,
may i never forget those who were willing to shatter their souls
to be taught how to murder
and that those who have taught them to do so
have the obligation for the rest of their lives
to care for them

that is all
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we are, just for a little while [16 Oct 2012|06:54pm]
[ mood | being ]

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standing up [16 Oct 2012|10:27am]
[ mood | sunson ]

"a large silent audience has gathered, after all. usually there is lively chatter before the evening's diversion. not tonight. they have turned out in surprising numbers, but the mood is funeral. behind the crude lectern, off to a side, stands the curtained puppet theatre. as natalie takes the vacant seat beside udam, he gives her a little smile that cuts her heart.

aaron places his notes on the lectern and looks about, stroking his beard. softly, in a dry classroom manner, speaking slow formal german, he begins.

"it is interesting that shakespeare seems to find the whole story of the Iliad contemptible. he retells it in his play, Troilus and Cressida, and he puts his opinion in the mouth of thersites, the cynical coward -- 'The matter is only a cuckold and a whore.'"

this quotation aaron jastrow cites in english, then with a prudish little smile translates it into german.

"now falstaff, that other and more celebrated shakespeare coward, thinks like emerson that war in general is nothing but a periodic madness. 'Who hath honor? He that died o' Wednesday.' we suspect that shakespeare agreed with his immortal fat man. Troilus, his play of the trojan war, is not in his best tragic vein, for madness is not tragic. madness is either funny or ghastly, and so is much war literature: either The Good Soldier Schweik, or All Quiet on the Western Front.

"but the Iliad is epic tragedy. it is the same war story as Troilus, but with one crucial difference. shakespeare has taken out the gods, wheras it is the gods who make the Iliad grand and terrible.

"for homer's hector and achilles are caught in a squabble of the greek deities. the gods take sides. they come down into the dust of the battle field to intervene. they turn aside weapons hurled straight to kill. they appear in disguises to make trouble or to pull their favourites out of jams. an honorable contest of arms becomes a mockery, a game of wits among supernatural, invisible magicians. the fighting men are mere helpless pieces of the game."

natalie glances over her shoulder at the listeners. no audiences like these! famished for diversion, for light, for a shred of consolation, they hang on a literary talk in theresienstadt, as elsewhere people do on a great concert artist's recital, or on a gripping film.

in the same level pedantic way, jastrow reviews the background of the Iliad: paris's awarding of the golden apple for beauty to aphrodite; the hostilities on olympus that ensue; the kidnapping by paris of helen, the world's prettiest woman, aphrodite's promised reward; and the inevitable war, since she is a married greek queen and he a trojan prince. splendid men on both sides, who care nothing for the cuckold, the whore, or the kidnapper, become embroiled. for them, once it is war, honor is at stake.

"but in this squalid quarrel, what gives the heroes of the Iliad their grandeur? is it not their indomitable will to fight, despite the shifting and capricious meddling of the gods? to venture their lives for honor, in an unfair and unfathomable situation where bad and stupid men triumph, good and skilled men fall, and strange accidents divert and decide battles? in a purposeless, unfair, absurd battle, to fight on, fight to the death, fight like men? it is the oldest of human problems, the problem of senseless evil, dramatized on the field of battle. that is the tragedy homer perceived and shakespeare passed over."

jastrow pauses, turns a page, and looks straight at the audience, his emaciated face dead pale, his eyes large in the sunken sockets. if the audience has been silent before, it is now as quiet as so many corpses.

"the universe of the Iliad, in short, is a childish and despicable trap. the glory of hector is that in such a trap he behaves so nobly that an almighty god, if he did exist, would weep with pride and pity. pride, that he has created out of a handful of dirt a being so grand. pity, that in his botched universe a hector must unjustly die, and his poor corpse be dragged in the dust. but homer knows no almighty god. there is zeus, the father of the gods, but who can say what he is up to? perhaps he is off mounting some bemused mortal girl in the disguise of her husband, or a bull, or a swan. small wonder that greek mythology is extinct."

the disgusted gesture with which jastrow turns his page surprises an uncertain laugh from the rapt audience. thrusting his notes into hi spocket, jastrow leaves the lectern, comes forward, and stares at his listeners. his usually placid face is working. he bursts out in another voice, startling natalie by shifting to yiddish, in which he has never lectured before.

"all right. now let us talk about this in our mother language. and let us talk about an epic of our own. satan says to god, you remember, 'naturally job is upright. seven sons, three daughters, the wealthiest man in the land of uz. why not be upright? look how it pays. a sensible universe! a fine arrangement! job is not upright, he is just a smart jew. the sinners are damned fools. but just take away his rewards, and see how upright he will remain!'

"'all right, take them away,' god says. and in one day marauders carry off job's wealth, and a hurricane kills all his ten children. what does job do? he goes into mourning. 'naked i came from the womb, naked i will return,' he says, 'god has given, god has taken away. blessed be god's name.'

"so god challenges satan. 'see? he remained upright. a good man.'

"'skin for skin,' satan answers. 'all a man really cares about is his life. reduce him to a skeleton -- a sick, plundered, beraved skeleton, nothing left to this proud jew but his own rotting skin and bones--'"

jastrow loses his voice. he shakes his head, clears his throat, passes a hand over his eyes. he goes on hoarsely. "god says, 'all right, do anything to him except kill him.' a horrible sickness strikes job. too loathsome an object to stay under his own roof, he crawls out and sits on an ash heap, scraping his sores with a shard. he says nothing. stripped of his wealth, his children senselessly killed, his body a horrible stinking skeleton covered with boils, he is silent. three of his pious friends come to comfort him. debate follows.

"oh, my friends, what a debate! what rugged poetry, what insight into the human condition! i say to you that homer pales before job; that aeschylus meets his match in power, and his master in understanding; that dante and milton sit at this author's feet without ever grasping him. who was he? nobody knows. some old jew. he knew what life is, that's all. he knew it as we in theresienstadt know it."

he pauses, looking straight at his niece with sad eyes. shaken, perplexed, on the verge of tears, natalie is hungry for his next words. when he speaks, he looks away, she feels he is talking to her.

"in job, as in most great works of art, the main design is very simple. his comforters maintain that since one almighty god rules the universe, it must make sense. therefore job must have sinned. let him search his deeds, confess and repent. the missing piece is only what his offense was.

"and in round after round of soaring argument, job fights back. the missing piece must be with god, not with him. he is as religious as they are. he knows that the almighty exists, that the universe must make sense. but he, poor bereft boil-covered skeleton, knows now that it does not in fact always make sense; that there is no guarantee of good fortune for good behavior; that crazy injustice is part of the visible world, and of his life. his religion demands that he assert his innocence, otherwise he will be profaning god's name! he will be conceding that the almighty can botch one man's life; and if god can do that, the whole universe is a botch, and he is not an almighty god. that job never concede. he wants an answer.

"he gets an answer! oh, what an answer! an answer that answers nothing. god himself speaks at last out of a roaring storm. 'who are you to call me into account? can you hope to understand why or how i do anything? were you there at the creation? can you comprehend the marvels of the stars, the animals, the infinite wonders of existence? you, a worm that lives a few moments, and dies?

"so the drama ends. god rebukes the comforters for speaking falsely of him, and praises job for holding to the truth. he restores job's wealth. job has seven more sons and three more daughters. he lives a hundred and forty more years, sees grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and dies old, prosperous, revered."

the rich flow of literary yiddish halts. jastrow goes back to the lectern, pulls the notes from his pocket, and turns over several sheets. he peers out at the audience.

"satisfied? a happy ending, yes? much more jewish than the absurd and tragic Iliad?

"are you so sure? my dear jewish friends, what about the ten children who died? where was god's justice to them? and what about the father, the mother? can those scars on job's heart heal, even in a hundred and forty years?

"that is not the worst of it. think! what was the missing piece that was too much for job to understand? we understand it, and are we so very clever? satan simply sneered god into ordering the senseless ordeal. no wonder god roars out of a storm to silence job! isn't he ashamed of himself before his own creature? hasn't job behaved better than god?"

jastrow shrugs, spreads his hands, and his face relaxes in a wistful little smile that makes natalie think of charlie chaplin.

"but i am expounding the Iliad. in the Iliad, unseen powers are at odds with each other, and that brings about a visible world of senseless evil. not so in job. satan has no power at all. he is not the christian satan, not dante's colossal monster, not milton's proud rebel, not in the least. he needs god's permission to make every move.

"then who is satan, and why does god leave him out of the answer in the storm? the word satan in hebrew means adversary. what is the book telling us? was god arguing with himself? was he asking himself whether there was any purpose in the vast creation? and in reply pointing, not to the dead glittering galaxies that sprawl over thousands of light-years, but to man, the handful of dirt that can sense his presence, do his will, and measure those galaxies? above all, to the upright man, the speck of dirt who can measure himself against the creator himself, for dignity and goodness? what else did the ordeal establish?

"the heroes in the Iliad rise superior to the squabbling injustice of weak and contemptible gods.

"the hero in job holds to the one almighty god through the most senseless and horrible injustice; forcing god at last to measure up to himself, to acknowledge that injustice is on his side, to repair the damage as best he can.

"in the Iliad there is no injustice to repair. in the end there is only blind fate.

"in job god must answer for everything, good and bad, that happens. job is the bible's only hero. there are fighting men, patriarchs, lawgivers, prophets in the other books. this is the one man who rises to the measure of the universe, to the stature of the god of israel, while sitting on an ash heap; job, a poor skeletal broken beggar.

"who is job?

"nobody. job was never born and never existed,' says the talmud. 'he was a parable.'

"parable of what truth?

"All right, we have come to it now. who is it in history who will never admit that there is no god, never admit that the universe makes no sense? who is it who suffers ordeal after ordeal, plundering after plundering, massacre after massacre, century after century, yet looks up at the sky, sometimes with dying eyes, and cries, 'the lord our god, the lord is one'?

"who is it who in the end of days will force from god the answer from the storm? who will see the false comforters rebuked, the old glory restored, and generations of happy children and grandchildren to the fourth generation? who until then will leave the missing piece to god, and praise his name, crying, 'the lord has given, the lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the lord'? not the noble greek of the Iliad, he is extinct. no! nobody but the sick, plundered skeleton on the ash heap. nobody but the beloved of god, the worm that lives a few moments and dies, the handful of dirt that has justified creation. nobody but job. he is the only answer, if there is one, to the adversary challenge to an almighty god, if there is one. job, the stinking jew."

jastrow stares in a stunned way at the still audience, then stumbles toward the first row. udam jumps up and gently helps him to his seat. the audience does not applaud, does not talk, does not move.

udam begins to sing.


so there will be no puppet show. natalie joins in the chorusing of the tragic refrain. udam sings his song for the last time in theresienstadt, driving it to a heartrending crescendo.

when it ends, there is no reaction. no applause, no talk, nothing. this silent audience is waiting for something.

udam does something he has never done before; an encore; an encore to no applause. he starts another song, one natalie has heard in zionist meetings. it is an old simple syncopated refrain, in a minor key, built on a line from the liturgy: "let the temple be rebuilt, soon in our time, and grant us a portion in your law." as he sings it, udam slowly begins to dance.

sheh-yi-boneh bet-hamikdash
bim-hera b'yomenu--

he dances as an old rabbi might on a holy day, deliberately, awkwardly, his arms raised, his face turned upward, his eyes closed, his fingers snapping the rhythm. the people softly accompany him, singing and clapping their hands. one by one they rise to their feet. udam's voice grows more powerful, his steps more vigorous. he is losing himself in the dance and the song, drifting into an ecstasy terrible and beautiful to see. barely opening his eyes, twisting and swaying, he moves toward aaron jastrow, and holds out a hand. jastrow gets to his feet, links his hand with udam's, and the two men dance and sing.

it is a death dance. natalie knows it. everybody knows it. the sight both freezes and exalts her. it is the most stirring moment of her life, here in this dark malodorous loft in a prison ghetto. she is overwhelmed with the agony of her predicament, and the exaltation of being jewish."

--yiddishe kop aaron jastrow, "Heroes of the Iliad"

(copyright Herman Wouk. go read his writings)

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October 14 [15 Oct 2012|08:06pm]
my mom died at 5:07 pm, feeling no pain since 10 am -- she is 66 years old

(i was sent home by my sister to freshen up after my vigil)

now i know what it means when someone says "her death was a blessing"

i love how, all of us cringing and bleeding around her, she was cracking wise

October 13, when the pain became too much and my sister had to verbally and politically destroy the hospitalist*, when my mother was begging my sister that she wouldn't treat a horse like this so she managed to get her GP to take her case and get her on a very powerful narcotic anesthetic

some 15 minutes after the 2nd shot of powerful narcotic she woke up

and all she could say was 'wow'

so her three kids and her sat up and watched the sunset while trying to sing, very badly, Satchmo's 'Wonderful World'...thank goodness for my brother's iphone to save the day

when i came in all soaked from the rain without any raincoat (i had left it in Washington State), she said she'd kill me first if i didn't get my winter raincoat back

my brother also brought some pretty awesome scotch with him; i don't normally like most alcohol because it tastes of sick, but this one was pretty good, with a very complex flavour. mom took the cork, brought it to her mouth, licked it, and smiled.

throughout, even when she was heavily narcoticized, she'd take some ice chips soaked in the scotch.

(whisky -- from uisge beatha which means "water of life"; now I know why it was called that)

when asked what she would like us to do it is to be happy and live life to the fullest

her service will be totally cool: people getting together to share in the common human experience -- but it'll have to be at someplace HUGE; there will be many, many people there

i can grok different afterlives, reincarnation, ESP, rstlne, a creative force in universe, but as i would think that any parent would do anything to save their child i don't grok that an omni-scient/potent/benevolent entity would allow one of their creations to die of cancer -- if they do, they are sadistic beyond anything humanity can think up and deserve to be fought tooth and nail...

* my sister totally has fierce love and fierce grace
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thank you, universe [17 Sep 2012|05:07pm]
[ mood | nowtant ]

Feel free to, in your own journal, join in this riff with your own anecdotes, musings, notions, pictures, movies, sounds etcs of universe

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to all believers [07 Jul 2012|01:35am]
whether they be Christian, Wiccan, Scientologist, SF-Fan, Comic Fan, Boy Georgian, JRR Tolkienian, Follower of Islam and so forth


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universe never ceases with gifts [21 Jun 2012|05:49am]
Hear that sound?

That's the Greek economy stopping

Welcome to the economy of value; the gift economy, the reputation economy; a true capitalism of serving others' desires

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greetings to the convivial collective quantum fluctuations [18 May 2012|03:29pm]
[ mood | Mellovivial ]

There is no Freedom, but the search for Freedom. And the search is what makes us free.

~ Carlos Fuentes (1928-2012)

In the Land of the Smug

Canadian violations of Global Human Ethics, sanctions anyone?

Food insecurity.

No right to water

Continued UN chastisement for continued Racism and mistreatment of indigenous Canadians

Canadian company set to mine a sacred mountain of the Wixarika nation

Canadians standing up for themselves
The Maple Spring protests, where they want:

The right to education for everyone

The right to a healthy environment

The rights of the indigenous peoples to their aboriginal lands,

The right to enjoy a responsible and democratic government,

The right to pacifism and international solidarity,

The right to a local, sustainable, mutually supportive social economy

If we are to have a true Global Human Ethics that means that everyone has to follow them*. Which includes things like treatment of indigenous and gay marriage.

All of which supersedes any religion or faith or belief as a fundamental Global way of living

Pray to the current Emperor of Canada

The world is changing. KEEP UP!

And so it goes -:)

* perhaps the UN-equivalent (a body will have to be created that actually has enforcing powers outside of sanctions and observing) will work out something where to be a "franchised" member of the World, one has to agree and if they don't, then the country can still exist as a sovereign state but will not be franchised

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in case of eschatology, liberate! [08 Jan 2012|11:29pm]
[ mood | Eclectic ]

Genties & ladlemen,

from one statistical fluctuation to another, each of us examples of universe experimenting, curious & curiouser!

At the Heels of a Muse
A Priest was having a tough time with her faith -- she had just had a debate with Sam Hitchens Voltaire, the world's ultimate atheist, and was down. So she went to her favourite fishmonger. But when she got there, her fishmonger said "Sorry, there is no cod."

Perhaps this Was the Whey She Went?
A band (and a song in particular) I'd like to experience before I die

Is there an artist/band you'd like to experience before you die?

Sponsored Word From A

Take a moment and worship Glas. Try it, you might like it. Remember, his spheres of influence are wit, dramaturgical mythology and melancholy surfing.

Pardon me Bois, But is this the Lair of Great Cthulhu?

A game I came across by accident (the internet is vast and contains lost civilizations!)

I see it is available on Steam. Hmm -:)

What Did the Hiver Say to the Human?
I fondly remember Glas' SF game with the Hiver (this one was trying to understand humour).
Now, I point him toward two nifty RPGS
Eclipse Phase, the RPG of Post-apocalyptic transhuman conspiracy and horror. Its just chok-full of fun & wacky stuff. And written under a Creative Commons license -:)

Another one is Esoterrorists, by Pelgrane Press. This is fine wine role playing (and deals with one of the big problems of mystery rpgs), done by some of my favourite RPG authors.

Not that I do any real role playing anymore -- I still enjoy and appreciate reading good material -:)

The Journey is the Destination

The following I found on an excellent website that I have been tooling on for a few now called The Daily Grail, a website full of fun "Fortean" links & run by a witty & generous Aussie who has creativity coming out of his fingertips. Feel free to go there and feel free to drop him some cash for his work -- he does good things -:)

So take care of yourselves, fellow fluctuations -:)

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Meditations for 2012 [31 Dec 2011|08:10pm]
[ mood | Comawake ]

Jerry's Map from Jerry Gretzinger on Vimeo.

Saul Griffith: Climate Change Recalculated from The Long Now Foundation on FORA.tv

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Dies Natalis Solis Invicti [24 Dec 2011|01:25pm]
[ mood | Content ]

Hello again world & fellow sentients. I hope you all have been -:) Hopefully the healing that universe has given me has gone its 'course' so I will be in touch in the new year.

In the meantime, enjoy this blessing by a member of a very healing culture

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The Cure for Anxiety [14 Aug 2011|11:32pm]
[ mood | Convivial ]

Dr. Feynman was supposed to have said that the true theory of everything (TOE) should be so concise and so easy to understand that it could fit on a T shirt.

Now, I don't think we'll ever get a theory of everything in that sense. I do agree with Sean Carroll of Cosmic Variance that the laws underlying the physics of everyday life are completely understood.

However, there are other, very important areas of human interaction that play a vital role as well, and for which, I think, there is a TOE. From which different 'psychotherapies' in a sense can be built around to help one.

This is the best explanation of what I think of is the central concept discovered by Buddha, oh so long ago. This is something that, I think, if learned by the general public, will result in less bullying, less fundamentalism, less nihilism, less unconscious partisanship, more compassion, more enjoyment of life. The true Global Human Spring.

But it won't cure the heartbreak of psoriasis. See your allopathologist for that -:)

This idea was found out by being a true scientist -- being relentlessly fair and open-minded and honest and, when something doesn't fit even if it feels very good, toss it for the truth.

I recommend for those that are intrigued by the video to start seeking out meditation or yoga. This will better teach you how to pay attention to the things you need to pay attention to be able to get better at what was mentioned in the video. There are many sources for meditation or yoga -- I am not going to tell you which one to go to, that is part of the learning, I think -:)

Oh, and I am part of a religious group of sorts -- the UCoC (United Church of Canada) spent millions of dollars to come out with a website called Wondercafe. Since I have joined, it has been a marvelous community, full of people who are more than willing to explain and explore. So, when someone now askes me what Church do I go to, I can answer that I go to a modern place of worship that is entirely online where the congregants are from all over the world.

I call it my Temple Mosque Stage Nest Wat Kingdom Hall Kirk Pathi Derasar Synagogue Hof Jinja Gurdwara Circle Conviviality...

Since I have no sense of humour, my username is Inannawhimsey. Feel free to drop on by.

And on Monday some of us locals will be meeting for the 2nd time. It will be AWE-SOME.

Carry on, citizens, and continue being a candle or a mirror. Agape for all!

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Challenges or "Befriending the G'l-doses" [04 Aug 2011|10:08pm]
[ mood | Vending ]

I never feel a thing is real
When I'm away from you
Out of your embrace
The world's a temporary parking place

Mmm, mm, mm, mm
A bubble for a minute
Mmm, mm, mm, mm
You smile, the bubble has a rainbow in it

Say, its only a paper moon
Sailing over a cardboard sea
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Yes, it's only a canvas sky
Hanging over a muslin tree
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Without your love
It's a honky-tonk parade
Without your love
It's a melody played in a penny arcade

It's a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

[song lyrics are "Paper Moon" by E.Y. Harburg and Billy Rose]

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Riding the sacred Chao-portmanteau river [07 Jul 2011|01:51pm]
[ mood | Psyciasing ]

Here are some more portmanteau words that have come my way via the collective unconscious. I put them out there for the collective to use as they are wont to.

-- when a man gets caught with their pants down and they go into a long, drawn-out explanation

-- what happens when on-line disucssion develops into a boxing match

-- Automatically believing what one categorizes as sacred (women, children, money, freedom, etc) is and should be followed and believed by anyone else

-- When a tribe gets active with their fasciosacridness (cf. Greenpeace, sombunall US administrations, Netanyahu, jihadists, Lex Luthor).  Also, the pleasure one gets when doing so

Idiodea -- describing a common 'causeless cause', when an idea, thought, feeling just pops into existence; may result in attributopocalypses.

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