Tagged: Writing

12/29/17

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This picture really got me going this week. This was taken at Tyee High School in  SeaTac, WA.

 

 Creativeness manifests in so many different ways, it is the spark of ingenuity. Creativeness is submersing yourself in a task; giving it attention, and care, without ego. Universes are created in a flash and a bang of Ingenuity. With a skillful approach and  Ingenuity relationships flourish.

I had the chance to play with my sumi-e supplies from Xmas…

Rainy Day Hike Along Mt. Rainier

I’m extremely excited about trying this new medium. I tried to clear my mind of a preconception, and encourage myself to just play around and try new techniques. The brush flows with an effortless fluidity. It really is enamoring, this sumi-e. I plan on putting this on a black mat. And then I’ll search for a nice frame, or maybe I’ll learn to make one myself… Heheh.

How did Creativity strike you this week? Drop me a note, if you’d like to leave a comment.

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Me and You

Everything is torn

in this world of twos.

Everything is

ideas, opinions, judgments, decisions.

There’s a whole world

between me and you.

Scattered and tattered

we’re torn apart

by the idea that we’re torn.

The mind divides

it’s just what we do

and now there seems

to be no reconciliation

between me                                    and you.

via Daily Prompt: Torn

Possession and the Idea Thereof

I Grasp to my ideas, viewpoints (and words)

Hanging onto them as if they were all I had.

Too many people have died, or suffered,

From the idea of possession.

I should fight the idea that

I can hold on to anything

Lest I want to choke creativity.

From possession we get:

Greed,

and therefore…

Competition, competition is what got us here. Economic, social, political… competition. Everyone trying to take a piece for themselves the piece they deserve what they’ve got comin’ to ‘em. Whereby it is regardless of the means necessary to take it. Psychologically, physically, take it.

Tradition

Culture

We posses a culture. We hold on to our culture and our traditions because they gather together the right feelings inside; Drama, we love to live within our drama; happiness, contentment, security within the familiar; how many years in a row am I supposed to watch A Christmas Story on TV during the whole month of December. Funny thing about America; culture is what drove us here, either to plant the root of a culture in a new land, a new territory, or to get away from an old culture and start anew. When are we gonna start anew? When are we going to stand up and accept change, differences, and the limitations of language. When are we going to drop the lie of separation and realize the interconnection; borders and ownership only exist within the idea of possession.

I have been constantly striving to take life,

to take ownership of it.

Holding fast to my culture, my interests, my identity.

Which then leaves me living in doubt,

since deep down I know I can’t own life,

or anything herein.

So I doubt my place in life.

I guess that meanz I’ve been living a lie. When life is a lie it ceases to be. it becomes and then it ceases, as does everything that is created. But if life is lived as truth, as what it has presented here and now then it has been experienced.

Tightrope



Tonight I walked the dog at around 9 o’clock. I  ran into the three Weird Sisters, who wobbled and ached, they spoke of recent doctor’s visits in between long periods of silence. Our dogs sniffed, then growled and barked. I mumbled something, but in my mind I was extremely witty and congenial.

We pulled away and walked up the sloped driveway, walked along the arterial drag passing under erubescent street lamps and into the cover of shadow. I took a couple puffs off the 8 $ mass produced glass marijuana pipe I had shoved in my jacket pocket before I left. Presently I realize little resinated nuggets tumble around in my pocket as I hide the evidence. Of course the  pair of rat terriers race to the chain link fence that runs along the sidewalk, their barks like trumpets, somehow melodic. Everything’s going to be OK. Life is a myth.

So suddenly everything slows down. Thousands of frogs croak, I can feel the reverberation of their ribbed ribbiting. Some days after 9 o’clock at night you can actually watch the clouds roll by. Have I slowed down enough to watch the world pass me by? I’m a big believer in perception, in different levels of communication and understanding, I’ve crossed a line. A threshold maybe? Everything’s going to be OK. There will be a price to pay… Cancer, stroke victim, diabetes, paraplegic, Crohn’s disease, multiple sclerosis, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, degenerative, decognitive… Okay so I just realized I’m liquifying into the mud, slowly trudging my thighs through until they are sludge, my torso barrels on with force pushing forward into the future. I transcend(-s, -ing, -ed). I am one. I am all. I am a puddle, a looking glass, a point in time, the infinite pivot. I am here