blog
life stream
subscribewhite cross
Saturday, March 29
It was a fun night, with the reminiscing of childhood dreams via movies and the laughing and the long-time-no-see old friend in town.
But driving home, it was thinking about praying at a white cross that came upon me. The cross that represents everything. And you were out with brunettes and redheads, and I was flying along the pavement, wet with the rain, thinking of things that are more symbolic than real.
The wind against my face is a reminder that I am alive. And no one is here to smile with that Thich Nhat Hanh sincerity that transcends culture and boundaries and blows all affect to the ground.
I notice these things. And blameless. Translucent. I saw these things on the cross. The white cross of purity and wholeness. It is beyond and within.
But driving home, it was thinking about praying at a white cross that came upon me. The cross that represents everything. And you were out with brunettes and redheads, and I was flying along the pavement, wet with the rain, thinking of things that are more symbolic than real.
The wind against my face is a reminder that I am alive. And no one is here to smile with that Thich Nhat Hanh sincerity that transcends culture and boundaries and blows all affect to the ground.
I notice these things. And blameless. Translucent. I saw these things on the cross. The white cross of purity and wholeness. It is beyond and within.
On writing and rituals and awakening
Tuesday, March 25
I have had my little rituals throughout the years, and believe they are necessary, at least for most people. I have rituals for cleaning out resentments, disappointments, heartbreak, depression and for work. One of the things I do is go over old stuff if I have been unable to write for a while. There have been times I would retype old manuscripts, write letters, write anything, just to get the machinery moving. Just touching a keyboard awakens something within me that only comes to life when I'm working. I only became aware of the writer sleeping, very soundly, within me after I started writing, and it took years of writing every day to wake him up.Hubert Selby Jr., author of Requiem for a Dream
Positive Psychology Quote of the Day
Why do we always forget that there is nothing powerful and beautiful in the whole field of human culture which did not originally spring from a sudden happy thought? What would become of humanity if no one had any more sudden intuitions?...Carl Gustav Jung
All Songs Considered
Sunday, March 23
All Songs Considered with Thom Yorke of Radiohead playing DJ
Failure
Tuesday, March 18
Kings of Convenience - Failure
"Failure is always the best way to learn,
retracing your steps 'til you know,
have no fear your wounds will heal.
I wish I could travel overground
to where all you hear is water sounds,
to capture and keep inside of me."
Why proofread when it's raining?
Why is it so exciting when the lightning strikes?
What does it remind us of?
Shelter! We must find shelter!
Why is it so exciting when the lightning strikes?
What does it remind us of?
Shelter! We must find shelter!
28
Sunday, March 16
and something like a jig saw puzzle with a couple of pieces missing
Umbrella
Wednesday, March 12
Manic Street Preachers (Rihanna Cover)
Interesting Fact of the Day - George Orwell Edition
Saturday, March 8
During his military service, George Orwell was shot through the neck and nearly killed. He wrote in Homage to Catalonia that people frequently told him he was lucky to survive, but that he personally thought "it would be even luckier not to be hit at all."
Friday, March 7
"All the world over, I will back the masses against the classes"
William Ewart Gladstone, 19th century UK Prime Minister
William Ewart Gladstone, 19th century UK Prime Minister
Reverse graffiti
Monday, March 3
They cleaned up the LA mural to Elliott Smith due to the overflow of graffiti over the more controlled previous artwork and signatures his fans put up over time as a tribute to him. Click here to see the new wall and an article about the repainting, here to see the Myspace page for the wall (no, seriously), and here to see an article and photo about the previous shape of the wall.
Saturday, March 1
The black birds outside of my window are flying around in circles, in a pack, each time moving upward during the arc of the circle farthest from me. Occasionally they spread out in a starburst pattern, somehow reforming the pack within a few brief moments, despite the chaotic form. As the last few minutes have passed, the air has darkened with the setting of the sun and it is becoming more difficult to distinguish the birds from the night sky, but I know they are still there. I can perceive a hint of their presence, like a flicking shadow against a black curtain. Are we like these birds, breaking form, moving up and away, just to fall again into place? What is it we are meant to discover in the patterns of our night sky? When will daybreak finally arrive and what will be the first sound that breaks the silence and brings the world back to life? On this quiet Sunday morning, who will be the first to lift the sun back into the sky?
