I am posthumously in the present moment.

I am posthumously in the present moment.
Lovely dreaming foxes

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Fast Food Pair of Dice Lost

Kite strings launch with random Lurching
Taco bell and silent burping
Streams of marbles
Rubbing shoulders
Aspire to be like checkered boulders
With collars up and spring insoles
Big fat men on tall brass poles
Spinning down on sluggish
Moles, who
Scamper and hide
In Panera bread bowls.
Roll the bones,
those lucky scones;
Raise the jambs and raid the homes.
Greedily grabbing a snake bit apple
slipping in a schmear of scrapple
news sound bites
through crumbs of breath
Supersized
with honey mustard death.

(Starbucks now offers the Trenta, 30 ounces cold drinks! I ordered a Trenta Coconut Frappuccino only to be sent away with a Venti – it seems Starbucks maintains standards for how many calories it offers to it’s customers in a single serving. So not to be outdone I ordered two Venti’s.)

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autofox

My body spends most it’s day leaking fluids…
Sputtering, shuddering – making wrong turns.
It has an unpleasant odor under the hood.
My smile is like the evergreen “car-freshener,”
dangling on a rear view mirror.
When I smile, it usually means I’m backing up.
All I do is replace fluids and watch the odometer spin

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDaqigctC6g&feature=fvsr

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Things Exist By Virtue of their Effects

We create what we resist. Resistance comes with the symptom of indirectly studying and ideologically manifesting what it is we previously only suspected we’d feared. The more we yield to the condition of resistance, the more we create, empower, and bolster the characteristics which we resist. For example, children are born without certain fears and only through socialization, language, education, and externally inspired inward recollection are given the tools to “embody, describe, and express” and so IT is created…and whether real or not, it’s “perceived” existence is enough to change the course of history….

things exist by virtue of their effects.

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I cannot trust a truth that has a purpose more important than itself

I cannot trust a truth that has a purpose more important than itself. When we are through with the pounding pursuit of objectives, and the chisels of tactics are worn down to nothing but pitted dull stumps, we will find we have created a tall berm of talus and dust between us and the truth, but there stands the “fruits” of our labor nonetheless. A true artist can look at a block of marble and know the true form within it before the chisel is ever set and struck.

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Defined by a Feather

A feather fell.. .2 years after writing this, a feather literally fell from the sky in a Caravanserai in Turkey... since then, my entire life has shifted.

Two years after writing this, a feather literally fell from the sky in a Caravanserai in Turkey… since then, my entire life has shifted.  This is literally the moment I picked that feather up.

My gift at mid-life, (which is defined by the fulcrum that shifts continually to the right over the course of a lifetime) was received when I dropped a palette of gold that I pulled from the earth to catch a single white feather that fell toward me from the sky. The gold was intended to pave the trail from whence I came, the feather, to show me the direction I should go.

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Arthur – on the art of Living

Our lives, each of us, are like perfectly tuned instruments…objects of intrigue in our stillness, but exquisitely beautiful when played among the symphony of life. When I go, the strings may snap and wood may warp…but the music is indelible. Go ahead and make a beautiful sound.

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Love is Fierce –

Love is Fierce – if you stand in it’s way, it will not swerve.

I have learned in life that sometimes truth (even our own)
is largely a function of how well we calibrate and hone
the instruments of self observation.

I suppose it’s “how” we look at ourselves,
more than “what” we see.

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Happiness – Water water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

I hear so many exchanges about “happiness” here in the amphitheater of social media. It is everywhere spoken – so much, that we fail to take a breath as we speak of it – it fills space with an abundance like oxygen, yet we suffocate as if it is absent altogether. Ironic. Herman Hesse wrote, “…happiness is a how, not a what; a talent, not an object…” I subscribe that happiness is the cause, not the effect; and still the “best” flavor of happiness seems to finish with a taste of gratitude on it. I find it odd that we know ourselves least, when we are confounded by why we are so happy and to whom we should be thankful. Ah, it is “I” that am the cause of happiness…so “I” am the effect! Take time to listen to what is inside, least spoken.

One evening, I came upon a Lovely Dreaming Fox – I paused and spoke, “Fox, imagine if water were happiness and you were a fish…would you sooner die drowning, than from thirst?” The fox stirred and thought for a moment… “Clearly, in either case, I would be miserable as a fish, which only reminds me of how happy I am to be a fox…”

How Parafoxical.

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