"On The Back of A Giant"

To believe- No justifications are needed. But how does one analyze the ideal of one belief. Above all others, manifested through attention and intention. Theories, laws, rules, these are all realm of the physical and thus tangible. They are not real to us all. Belief is the ideal of the metaphysical. A miracle unexplained. The happenings of certain miracles can be explained, spontaneous healing refers to the body's repairing itself or ridding itself of disease without traditional medical interventions like surgery or drugs. Latest science now changes this dichotomy into a miracle supported by knowledge.

I met a man this weekend who was diagnosed with type one diabetes at the age of twelve. His pancreas was not producing the required insulin his body needed. He tells me, "I can not really explain it, but I just knew I was going to have it [diabetes]. Next check up his pancreas was working normally and never since has he had any symptoms of this disease. He "just knew". How is anything known that solidly. Beyond words-strictly what? I have no idea. I am going to share a story about Dean out of the book Evolve your Brain by Dr. Joe Dispenza.

"When I first saw Dean sitting in my waiting room, he smiled and winded at me. On his face he had two tumors the size of very large lemons. One was under his chin on the right side, and the other growth was on his forehead on the left side. During my examination, Dean explained that he had leukemia. I asked him what medications and therapies he used to keep the disease under control. 'None, never' he replied. I continued my examination, trying to focus on what I was doing but wanting to ask him dozens of questions. I had healed from an injury, but this was clearly different. Leukemia , especially untreated acute myelogenous leukemia was a debilitating and painful disease. I was not an injury the body could simply heal over time, like a broken bone.
The doctors who diagnosed Dean had given him six months to live. Right then, Dean said, he had made himself a promise to see his son graduate from high school. That pivotal moment had occurred 25 years earlier...I finally had to ask, 'How did you do it? You should have been dead 24 years ago, but with no medications, no surgeries, no therapies, you are still alive. What's the secret? Dean smiled broadly, leaned across the examining bench to bring his face close to mine, pointed to his forehead, and said, 'You just have to make up your mind!'.

These stories are few and far between perhaps, the death rate for Leukemia is high and living that kind of life tends to be fragmented. Says who? You and I do, living our lives. "Our thoughts matter, our thoughts literary become matter." (Dispenza) I am fascinated by these results felt in these stories or pathways. What makes their choice so much more powerful then mine. How? They have a means which is the "why". How much of life, unhappiness, red tape, guilt, that all of it, i just take for granted. A victim to life is no way to live. So here is to the great unknown-the power that made the body is the power that heals the body. My journey to change has begun with these thoughts. New neural plasticity. No long addicted to brain chemistry of a repeating form of self. Mental rehearsal of who I want to be-life I am living in my mind is the same as life living in the sensuous participatory world. I can't fail at this, every thought, every trial is a new evolution of being. And that is comforting.

An ironic position

A young adult sent off to school. Loving parents watching their little boy grow up before their eyes. Watching-from the side lines of youth. This education, flight of experience distances the framework of the paternal / maternal relationship with their kin. The experience they allow me to traverse is my own. This disables our relationship at the same time, growth is my goal, comfort is theirs. Comfort in the smiles and careful parenting of when they were needed essentially. Traditional thought of parenting prevents new flight for both parties. Parents watching from the ground, call back to me-as a youth. Lift them up I say, I will forever be your child-but now a new friendship is in the making. One of curiosity and exploration! Strive for the importance of living together once again. The call to "check up" is lost. Share essences not facts. Speak in dreams-life sought and journeys ongoing. Let all cultivate with hands in the real soil, not simply sowing seeds from picture books of the past. Fresh eyes create fresh memories that do not need to be captured. To capture is to lose the spontaneity-the freedom dies in its eyes. Expectations cannot be met in that reliving. I am all smiles for the present-shared.

Such miscommunication typed here

The written word. Fantastic form of expression. What solid ground can we relate to one another? Technology to aid in connecting us all as well. Yet through this connection a proximity is gained-a necessity to coexist through rules and expectations. " It [Technology] appears to eliminate slowness, distance, and ultimately identity." (Guillaume, Marc) We define everything, including our existance with words and symbols. Has the affect of words and their power been confused through various searches of alterity?-Yes. David Abram says the word draws power from our sensuous surroundings-earth. The Apache Indians had a practice of story telling were they would sing place names. The earth was the median for communication-everyone knew the places and the stories to go with them. Their history, values and moral code all related to the land.

Where do today's words come from? What power do you and I put into words. A dictionary holds supreme power-but do many people speak in vernacular oxford English? Our journey of language is experience and interactions. But in today's world, the power of the word is gained from you, I, and so many other not so constant forms all in different contexts and and unrelated sensuous surroundings. Building into the internal paradox of communication, "the more we communicate, the more we destroy communication; or, the less we exchange, the more we have to communicate." Baudrillard, Jean (45)
Capturing essences is beyond the codes capabilities-only manipulation is possible. Are we distancing ourselves from roots already before us? Attempting to get back into touch with ourselves and the world through the word. Validation to be found once and only defined are we alive. Each of us as an original definition-so many bodies distanced from one another by the self seeking singularity.

Invention of Morel

"...everything I do now is leading me to one of three possible futures: to the woman, to solitude (or to the living death in which I spent the past few years, as impossibility now that I have seen the woman), or to a horrible sentence. Which one will it be? Time alone will tell. But still I know that writing this diary can perhaps provide the answer; it may even help produce the right future." (32)

The flaw of finding this island alone it that all interactions are based on a monologue of the narrator. Never once has the 1924 party addressed him as anything but a ghost. He will forever be a ghost to them. His interaction and his validity of his immortality is dependent on fresh eyes coming in to see the recording. Even with the narrators careful action and scene setting with Fauastine-he is still untrue to himself. The only persons he can fool of his shared intimacy with Faustine is another who stumbles upon the island and is a primary resource to the recordings. The immortality is fabricated and false.

"I hope that, generally, we give the impression of being inseparable, or understanding each other so well that we have no need of speaking." (101)

Even at the very end, he is grasping onto something out of his reach. His eternity is counterfeit-and he knows it. Purpose of the diary is what then?

"And if I am to die, this diary will leave a record of the agony I suffered." (86)

...and suffers still.

"To the person who reads this diary and then invents a machine that can assemble and disjoined presences, I make this request: Find Faustine and me, let me enter the heaven of her consciousness. It will be an act of piety."

The narrator's eternity is not complete yet. In waiting for his eternity with Faustine, he has broken his one vow.

"I must renounce-once and for all-any help from my fellow man" (20)

Mittens and rock climbing?

Beautiful day in the neighborhood. Though the hood could not contain us. Sunshine required a celebration. A day to play in its radiant surroundings. Bright in our eyes and wonderful our smiles. Larrabee beach awaited. Exploring the carved sandstone with imagination and plastered excitement. Which routes to choose and dreaming of the far out. What splendid creation Puget sound waves create. Thick overhands and cracks by the plenty. The imagination and calmness of tree climbing in my youth. Though I was not timing myself this time around. Quiet and calculated-griping with numb fingers at times. Thus the mittens in between runs. The sense of exploration ahead of us. What lie around each outcropping of rocks was the anticipation-scouting with wide eyes. Energy spent and received from such magnificent naturally beauty. Quiet and sensuous harmony for all. Refreshed and smiling still.

G atticus

Formless

To drink the beams of the stars, let them pierce my body and flow out. Feet taking me high above the clouds, to mountain peaks touched only by the imagination. I wish to jump from the top and be caught by dreams. My soul trickling down with the rain. Big drops and small, they all land and bring life. Landing in the ocean, rippling outward to the seven seas. Swept up in the clouds only to land again in gentile fields. There I lay, face to the clouds. Soft zephyr dripping wheat down to brush my face. Tickling life back into life, for it was here all along. Here I see what the sun allows me to see, no interpretations, just love of life.

-G atticus

Wondering about Winter

Look up at those perfect fluffy snow flakes. Open up to them. They are simply falling, a weather pattern of absolute beauty. Softening all the edges encountered. Snow falls quietly, deafening the sounds. Or the world is quiet with snow outside. Cups of tea and cribbage are past times. Family and cooking. Having bread rise the old fashion way with a bit of TLC in the recipe. Some allow snow to be the cause of frustrations and holiday anxieties. No, no that is a choice. There is always one window into a better choice. Look at smiling faces and snuffling noses of all those youngens sledding. The snow may be gone tomorrow- so the only option is enjoying today. The presence and absolute love of the snow is unparalleled by the youth. Many love to walk in the snow, take pictures. But only those 5 feet and under really embrace the snow. A situation blossoming with opportunity of a play day anew with fresh powdery bliss. Take a page out of the snows book-slow down and never fight it for nature is surely bigger if the battle is chosen. Peace and happiness to us, everyone!