Life! Not Resource…

F141Life is not a resource. Life is being…Trees—fish—animals—reptilian alive—life. Since life is being then everything on this precious earth and in our sweet oceans—lakes and rivers are beings. We too are members of this stream and our existence and freedom and balance are interlocked in these motions and rhythms and rhymes. Dependents we are and we rejoice in the music of nature’s symphony and universal spirit-speak.

Life is not a resource. Forests are not board-feet. Our precious animals are alive and well and multiplying within circle-life and when undisturbed; are balance and the harmony of earth twirl and whirl across space—required for survival and never a commercial aggravation of money changers and the idiocy of gain. Precious must be protected; used by wise beings, removed from destruction and worshiped as our only method to survive future days or nights. Unless! Flash we stop and our carbon-based trickle ceases equal value and determination.

Life is not a resource. When forest covered this place—land once stripped is now concrete jungles and scattered sky-buildings layered from portions of little to—too much. Resource-speak twisted this place into battlefields and crime and punishment and the damage of civilization and the end of peace. Nations began with ‘battle-cries of freedom’ and the blood of poor laborers and slaves created hope for many and freedom for few.  Life is not  to be purchased or sold.

Life is not a resource. The middle of an Eastern portion of a world spinning across a universe of space and time and landfall and splendor has a determination created by a Western ideology so foreign and devoid of principle that Sociocide is a study in collateral damage and a ‘resourceful’ necessity. Egypt—Palestine—Lebanon—Syria—Iraq—Iran and…Presently; these wars are battles of imbalance created by this terror from the West. Someday soon—this will pass…Life is sacred and family is love!

Life is not a resource—and Colonialism is the destruction of Society. Western civilization believes life is resource. However; life is interlocked and dependent and precious. Resource is another tool for wealth creation and the capitalization of destruction. Until decisions of an illogical accumulation of life as resources cease, the world will gain nothing and the drones of war will continue forever.

Life is not a resource. May we all become an inspiration of balance and love? Remember we are creations of creative folk—never alone. We are spirits and joined to every living thing—seen and also not observed. We are animals and fish and reptiles and trees and flowers and skies and moons and suns and stars and planets across many miles inside universes of many miles.

Are we not everlasting spirit-life in an eternal place wherever these places remain? Now! Cover us with moonlight and star bright—as we angel-dance in misty air and yesterday’s futures—tomorrow.

And! Beautiful you are…

Keys And Doors…

D112Often a magic key or sets of those unlocking instruments are an imagined tool to escape—to find—to prevail and to become again lost in secret recesses—accesses known only to a favorite few or in the plain-view of everyone. There are so many secrets discovered and so little time for those secret solutions. And! The way to hearts is always through hearts.

Keys are for the gate or the vault or the power over everything or underneath ever day. These bits of magic are always certain and almost—mostly remain undiscovered. On somewhere worlds of somewhere places keys of several plus two bring together and combine to open portals of sometime space to those able to find those magic tools.

Open now the valves of hearts before the ending winds of fantasy and miracle crafts of ancient presents start the sound and close the jeweled reminding remainders of once was and will again be—behind this closet space and scattered among the norms of whimsy. Combine the key of blood across a place knowing the unknown knowledge and uncertainty of places developed—forgotten and reminded as ancient sketches text ruins of things and times to remember.

We did not find ourselves within swirls of gold and pebbles of purple stones. We touch beneath the blue of sky before clouds reasoned our reason for running toward our cave of gray rocks and soft dirt. We touch blood-love dry from rain and warmed away from wind howl and storm. A key of warm blood and heart surge and the air of together gate and through a portal into forever—ever place.

Key then we and we are—before the rain and after the mystic portions of storm and war and wind and rain and gain and pain and the losses of yesterday’s mystical memories inside today. Across a world of life the same blood moves and time exists only in those carrying the sweetness of a nothing concept or a notion of not this moment. Time is never-key. No time are magic keys of forever places and spaces between raindrops and years-to-end.

And! Beautiful you are…

Solar Life and Flashes…

Sun_532Solar Lighting begins late in the evening sky and continues through the following weeks; first scorching the million-acre-land around Calimesa City and ultimately damaging the domes of cover across the skies above those made at home. Life ends and life begins. A different life also creates-stop-start inside several thousand—where water begins and evaporates.

Rulers gather and die.  The death of middle worlders on surface is many and rarely varied. A renewal of the hidden memories of power in times of sorrow and danger and fear prevail.  Wealth again moves and poverty descends from above the sunlight and below the ground levels of cave dwellers and their children.

Across spaces of lighted atmosphere and spaces absent of everything except views above and across an angled galaxy, war of rearranged arrangements begin and end in victories and losses. Some obtain more of less and some lose everything to those others dwelling above these spaces and below this ground—stretched places of caves and cave-ins and areas where life hides from death and awaits the end of silent lightning and the reaches of flash.

Once again upon these skies, a spinning whirl of land and seas of salt and lakes of salt less liquid, warriors stage the wars of rearranged arrangements and wealth distributes where the winners rejoice and the losers lament. The dead are discarded beneath the soiled blood and inside rocky renditions of those of victories in death and legend. Quickly forgotten are the response of battle and the rhymes that end with hunger and rearranged arrangements.

For these days of peace remember pleasant moments of above ground splendor and days of night and night of days as knights begin an uncertain dance of daze. Swords and shields never rust and the lightning of solar ruins again gather in place of suns and along a galactic twirl of swirling earth filled with the salt of sea and the breaking winter waves along the shorelines of a billion lakes without salt and filled with many lights of star sparkle and life.

These are the days of women and men and children and reaffirmation and survival’s rearranged arrangements and offerings. These are creators of ways and means and love and care in heart shaped reasons and certainty. The responsibility of these creations are moments before another war and the death of songs forgotten from those last days battled when reasons were few yet responses necessary. Always…Rearranged arrangements? Blood feeds the form and those forms cease flesh without it? Let it be written so let it…

And! Beautiful you are…

Port-Passage In Sight…

1bIs nature the force that causes us to move through lives of our own creation? Are we able to remain as objects without motion? If this is a force, are we able to creep through life quietly—afraid to disturb a silence, too loud to understand or tolerate?

So much perspective longing by people of sanity or madness…Need to make or cause words to do what is wanted. May direct words…Listen and they will sometimes come…

Our endless supply of Creators…These presented God-Gods reach hand clasped and hand-handed across a bridge between faint notion, through foggy prayer and space jamming Orion – Virgo and Leo into an obtainable notion beyond earth-life somewhere beyond stellar distances and new portions of gravity-bound existence.

Wonders often; if the passage of time is as dreadful as the gaining of age and fearing nothing save remorse and regret for opportunities missed…still wondering if aging as terrible and menacing; for it cannot give anything back and has nothing to return?

Often wagged by both life and death – So/such a powerful confusion that one cannot be without the other? And the anti-poetic freak – a – spirit, too afraid to both soar and remain too grounded? Therefore, these fears reconstruct the affirmative impulse?

We do not quietly pass through this life. We remain in constant motion even when sleeping…As fearful travelers from unknown to recognized and then to the great unknown everlasting quality of not being, dead or very dead. Even in great everlasting we change and we further die…

When rest stops us, do we finally slow-down or do we simply vanish into…It is with a trembling self –we have seen it all, again. Alive and real across the heavens
of time, civilizations more or less and a part of these.

Alive and real among these columns of Mt. Airy granite through the shifts of sands of time both substantial and real. Alive and alone and having walked across these deserts and seas and upon these surfaces of time. We cause great and wondrous meanings from-confusion…

Yes and Yes and Yes! I and me and we and us have seen it all, again. The Universe from a speck to a mighty and hurtling Earth, a cross of heavens filled with multitudes of this and that. We see it all and please sweet dream-side, let us see it all again
until, I and we and us may again recognize – OK…

There and perched high on dream-side at a flip of mind-sigh, we move across the Universe so fine. Alive and gone and alive and gone ‘til counting-time catches us with mind-sides swirling sight of mind-light bright brings the way to see…

And Oh! What a wave to see,
to be, to know and again to have seen.
Yes! To have seen, so it seems and to
see it all through Love! Again…

And! Beautiful you are…

Sweet Songs and Whispers…

60Here the eternal spirits swim and wait for day’s beginning and star-light’s fade. Somewhere the familiar are new and the same and also very different.  Watch now as we pass—swimming in deep water clear and blue and green.

We breathed the same air and often we never surface. We do not require space above the sea. Together all of us—animals and fish and forever spirits….Never cease—we are alive! We are verses of the same universes—We have the right to be everywhere…

There is a slip off the main channel of a River called Manatee…The Sentinel watches this curving slip of water between landfall and islands of reeds and grass and palms and sand. Bear cubs and Panthers kiss the sweet liquid of combinations both salt and fresh and dance along the edges of knowing their way and sea-side rhythm and of verses of silence.

The GrefShane come this way…They are not frequent folk to line these shorelines; however, they love the Sentinel and the Festival of Bridges—occurring every thirty years. And! The GrefShane watch no sweeping clocked hands or sun’s pitch or star travels across a darkened sky. They are existence and they happen when they are timed to form and to appear.

They stand beneath moon light and within the form of Draped One and their motion casts gentle designs into an easy night. Tall and short and large and small and gathered to hear the soft waves scatter across the shore and just beneath their feet—bare and warmed in the air of night.

They watch the shadows of bridge span and steel as wooden shapes pass underneath the towers of man, built when young species roamed earth-bound and the constructions of shapes and water passages filled the world—before the tearing days and summer’s song. A night bird cries and another winged one settles protected within thick tree grasses inside the shadows of the moon.

The large ones rise to surface and water gently swirls behind them. They are slow and sweet and strong inside a current they know as their reasons and their purposes inside the strength of their being strong and imagined as real.

They rise to meet the GrefShane— protectors of these moments-in-time and places-of-being simply life and nothing more or less. The River Manatee sleeps and its current survives.

And! Beautiful you are…

Chasing Eternal Spirits…

25City ended when life known though not completely understood stopped and the wars began. Great floods of political or religious doctrine mixed with gun-powder, drones and bombs—ba-boom-ba-boomed despite of; right or wrong, weak or strong and as all beliefs—no regard for precious life. Territory divided along the secular lives of too many bleeding folks and still the ba-boom of gun-powder and drones and bombs along with the religion of death found no one innocent enough to live.

City stopped and the social constructions of neighborhood and village and town died without a whimper. These constructions simply died, when the bullets ran out and all the weapons jammed. Riding those lines of timeless speed and the dark-light dance—carried Sparking Sparkle toward mass of center without color.

Then began the poisons of time. Another body politic found a better way to worship and to control those left to control. Call climates-a-changing or winter’s wrath or drought or flood an Earth-ender. Call death by storm or maelstrom or super storm Cindy or Clyde or Mary or…Mind-storm of those to control the unwilling to be controlled and always war to stop-start-win-lose-contain-spread-prevent-continue…Confusing of words sometimes win?

And! Always those living or dying in-out times either today, tomorrow, in present condition or another future real or imagined. Watch the sky for ‘It’ will come and destroy us! This never happens because we destroy ourselves. Are war and the fighting of battles as genetic as the creation of our own children?

If we let them do…then this is what will happen…they are not able to govern…and let’s call those freedom fighters—Terrorist…they are not people…they must be contained…this is our war against Terrorism…yet; is their war a hope for Freedom and Determination? Those winning wars rewrite history and are remembered as Patriots-Noble-Courageous-Founding Fathers and…really Thomas Jefferson, are all men equally created; yet, slaves are owned?

After several weeks of warnings the ultimate destruction of our Solar system, commenced and in a little under one hour the sun and planets were gone…All men are created equally! Living changes everything and another adventure begins. Skipping into start-stop and without this motion all ends…Skippity-Hoppity-Peace-be-Peace.

At this bridge we jumped to safety just before our vehicle splashed into water below us. He leaps to safety, and then plunge-jumped into the swirling-twirl and chased the auto as it went to-bottom. We waited for him to surface…He re-appeared as a boy. However; why a small child? Anyway, we never saw the man again.

And! Beautiful you are…

//

Change Body Change…

71In the beginning there was the violence of creation—and as womankind and mankind spread about the earth violence was their survival…Born in blood and dead in blood. Such is the way of physical life and being physical in the rhythm of here-today-and-gone-tomorrow. Within the cycle called life—we are born to be wasted.

Let us not fall in war but simply fall in love! A pleasant change—don-cha-think?

 

“Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one”…’Image’ by John Lennon

And! Beautiful you are…

//

We! Born to Be…

Whitnal Lake_1The great bird—without wing flap glides three inches above water surface for ten seconds then moves wings, strengthens and glides again…Sea calms on motion’s day and the watchers silently visiting shoreline, wait the happening and the night.

This is the day of Lions and caught between the water deep and surface wait the Griefshane and their moments in sunlight along forest’s edge and sand’s start. They are a few of many…Liquid born and water borne in ceaseless mixtures of salt and waves and sky and shoreline; trees, rocks, hills, valleys and mountains.

They are the mysteries of society and culture. They are…Legends of mighty warriors and caring givers-of-life. Their women are strong and their men powerful. They build worlds and are from other places and galaxies and wars and peace and forever.

We are their beginning and our end. Sounds as Godspeak—told by men and by women in times of peril and of need and of superstition and…We spin tales that become truth and power and magic. We craft the moneyed ways of future’s lost and tomorrow’s end.

People-governed through fear and the fabrication of religious lies and wealth, turn to burden. The revolution of death’s start-stop dance and the futility of power continues in any name except Truth.

We are born-to-be-wasted. ‘I want to unite with you Eternal Spirit…Help me awaken to that great goal’—unknown author.

And! Beautiful you are…

The Conditions of Surviving Survival…

7Is a Society equivalent to the sum of its members? Will the actions of the members of that society serve to fashion and to shape it? What are the social consequences of intentional actions and will these actions often be unintentional? What is a Society to do to ease itself into an obvious oblivion?

Scientific Theories are predictive. Societies’ songs prohibit most predictions…

For the Programmer…

Bayes’ Theorem is a simple mathematical formula used for calculating conditional probabilities. It figures prominently in subjectivist or Bayesian approaches to epistemology, statistics, and inductive logic. Subjectivists; maintaining rational beliefs, are governed by the laws of probability and lean heavily on conditional probabilities in their theories of evidence and their models of empirical learning. Bayes’ Theorem is central to these enterprises by simplifying the calculation of conditional probabilities and clarifying significant features of the subjectivist position.

The Theorem’s central insight — that a hypothesis is confirmed by a body of data that its truth renders probable — is the cornerstone of all subjectivist methodology.

Bayes’ Theorem… PE(H) = [P(H)/P(E)] PH(E)

The probability of a hypothesis H conditional on a given body of data E is the ratio of the unconditional probability of the conjunction of the hypothesis with the data to the unconditional probability of the data alone.

A Definition…

The probability of H conditional on E is defined as PE(H) = P(H & E)/P(E), provided that both terms of this ratio exist and P(E) > 0.

Here are some straightforward consequences of (1).

Probability. PE is a probability function.
Logical Consequence. If E entails H, then PE(H) = 1.
Preservation of Certainties. If P(H) = 1, then PE(H) = 1.
Mixing. P(H) = P(E)PE(H) + P(~E)P~E(H).

For Magical World of Society…

There are no reasons for a society to forever survive. A society is not eternal because it cannot be predicted into certain oblivion. No Way and No How and Oh—No.

And! Beautiful You Are…

 

From Somewhere World…

7Winter’s walk around Village Square and Father…The great man took his son’s hand and they wandered the snow-covered and light-filled place…The trees were huge and the sky was bright. On a hill just above them, a choir practiced those songs of Christmas past—of that moment and about those days of coming.

“What do you hear?” he asked. “Music,” the boy answered…”And what else?” Little children…hear the magic of those sounds present and questions are never answered from…

“What do you hear—Daddy? I hear the flapping wings of middle angels and the thunder of snowfall and the twinkling of lights and…you.” he answered.

Christmas walks and Mothers and Fathers and families are forever things—as are people and memories and songs and dances and sorrow and laughter and Life…

On these quiet nights, just before the Holiday of Family Song…I hear Father!

Merry Christmas to our world and maybe somewhere on middling planet—not steeped in all of our pertinacious folly there is Peace on Earth…Father’s favorite Christmas song started as… “I heard the bells on Christmas Day. Their old, familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat. Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”Henry Wadsworth Longfellow…

Hey! Great ideas…All this talk of Peace and Love and Understanding. No religion required! These are three simple notions. All we need…Us and being able to hear one another…

So this is hoping—that for once during the time of lives and for the folks of a planet of somewhere…Merry Peace and Love and Understanding.

And! Beautiful you are…

//