Personal stories about insight, wisdom, consciousness, and responses to the conditions of life.

On Whimsy

Being Different photo bdif.jpgApparently this was written when I wasn't having a particularly good day. Somebody posted something and I felt like it needed a response. And thinking about it, I felt maybe it might be a teaching moment, so a comment became a diary.

Such things rarely have proved to be overtly beneficial.

The graphic to the left is entitled Being Different. The cell being attacked by antibodies theme reflects how transpeople often feel in this society.



Weaving Reality: Coming to a temporary(?) end

The pieces today's chapter of the WeaveMothers are cobbled together from are The Five Fears, The Brakeman had a Bony Countenance and The Quicklies

Any more about the Weavemothers must await being freshly written. The Song of Earth is extremely long, however, so it could happen.



Weavemothers Background

Today's offering consists of several different parts of the story which I have spent the morning trying to stitch together cohesively. The pieces were originally from Of the Greataway, a Machine and the Weavemothers, Dreams, The Dedos, Post-Beginnings and What Shenshi Did, all written in 2008 and 2009.

Once upon another WhereWhen, or maybe several times upon many different WhereWhens, I imagined the WeaveMothers into existence ...or maybe you did...or maybe they Caused us or me to imagine them. One and many, they appeared. And they used the Locomotive's ability to defy the restrictions inherent in causation in order to travel to the many Stations along the Tapestry, along an uncountable multitude of happentracks. Their job, as they...or we...or I...have imagined it, will have been to add the weft threads to the Tapestry. One and several, for they are simultaneous just that, they will have added the colors of existence between the pixels of the Rainbow.

In order to carry out this onerous yet joyful task they gave birth, perhaps in reality, perhaps metaphorically, to the self-programmable, autonomous units which are you and I. And in so doing, of course, we come full circle to the inexplicability of the Way.

Our life paths contribute to the vibrancy and texture of the Tapestry we shall never see completed. But so too do those lives threaten the integrity of the Tapestry's structure.


Yes: The Revealing Science of God




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Weaving Reality: Diversity/Integrity

I got out my tools and pestered two pieces from out of 2008 into joining together because they seemed to need to do so. They are both from the Weavemother series but they were not originally consecutive. A little hammering, a little chiseling, some soldering, application of a vise or two and now they maybe work better.

The first was originally named Diversity and the second Integrity. There is a little bit from Waging Peace in here as well

There's music ahead...and some poesy.



When Chapters Collide: a mash-up

What would happen if two of my selected writings collided?

I thought I might as well see. One of the pieces (Of the Greataway) is from a story I had been working on roughly called The Weavemothers. The other (On the Thickness of Skin) was an entry in my now defunct feature called Café Discovery that once appeared on Sundays at Docudharma.



Jump Shift?

Star Womb photo egg21.gifFrom late January of 2008, I bring another of the conjunctive pieces I shall include in my book. It was originally published at Docudharma.

This graphic is named Star Womb

Phase in. Phase out. Out of Phase.

Phase shift.

Some people shift paradigms. I shift points of view. Sometimes I have felt forced to do so. Sometimes I choose to do so intentionally. Sometimes I have taken a chance at shifting willingly.

I've come to the fork in the road, so to speak. (Insert Slauson Cutoff joke here) Do I step on the transporter or not? Do I scatter my atoms across the universe?

Mitosis? Cytokinesis? Meiosis?

Will these metaphors never cease?




It was 2008. I had been quite ill. But it was a Friday, which meant I had a column due at Docudharma.

The graphic is named Wallpaper. It was created in the wayback.

The fever burns. Whether the fever of the head or the heart, it burns.

Temperature rising,
it isn't surprising
she certainly can can-can

--Irving Berlin

Twenty-four hours being bathed in fire, spiked with the occasional five minutes of shaking from being chilled to the bone and frequent bouts of coughing which rendered breathing problematic have passed. Memories linger and are recorded. Ideas joust with each other for primacy. Words erupt.



Choosing Happiness

This was originally published in 2008. My views on the subject herein usually get me yelled at.

I'm willing to take that chance.

The event which occasioned the writing of this will become clear at the end. If, while reading this, it has not yet become clear, it is because you have not yet reached the end.

The graphic is entitled Doodle 9.




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