ping. sing. ring.

splashing playfully, smiling, enjoying in every way.


On Thu, January 18, 2007 8:52 am, ***** wrote:

> me: smile smile smile
>
> Dear Princess SummerFallWinterSpring,

before i go any further…. as you know, i blog. and anything i get, send, am involved with… any of it, has potential to show up there. naturally, i remove identifiers. just seems proper. but… wanted to mention it. one of yours already has… this one likely will, too. i enjoy demonstrating connection, reminding myself of it, and also, those things that swirl within any and all connections made on more than the most superficial level.

if this presents an issue, please tell me and i will refrain from including your words. my own i place there both as lesson and promise.

> This is all so confusing for me. Thank you SO VERY MUCH for your
> communications. I am graced and embraced and lullabyed (word?) by your
> sweet compasionate words.

i am curious. why confusing?

but i smile for the rest. thank you for being you. one of my recent lessons has been that all such things, reaction, feelings, etc. come from within. we sometimes look to thank or blame others for them… but it is never more than a kindness (to others) or a blindness (to our own flaw/fault), because it all happens here, inside.

would you understand if i asked you to thank yourself? for me? (smile) or why, when i say ‘thank you for being you’, that what i really mean is ‘i honor in you that which chooses to find this response’?

work interruptus. heh. me and my priorities. for shame. but no shame. hah. how’s that?

i feel i should admit (as if it is needed?) that not all my words are sweet. nor compassionate. sometimes, surly angry snarling all softness turned to razor, seeking tender skin, hear the artery thumping, honing in, focus focus focus… just the right angle and then…. snick, flick, sic, thick… watch it froth, foam… oxygenated crimson, savage smile.

no. i am not always kind.

but. if there is any value in the saying, i try to be. i fail, more often than i’d like, but. i try.

> Do you know the nautical term “crossed seas”? It refers
> to waves which come from all directions at once. Also from above and below
> as well as northsoutheastandwest. That’s me right now.

never heard this one before. interesting image, though. imagining that boat. small and tossed, waves thrusting upwards as if to raise it, sacrifice to juno by poseidon, placate angry skies, for lightening is the one thing the waters fear… helpless but to transfer currents, unable to touch for slaughter… look away, oh angry sky, here, take this boat
instead.

that, of course, the waters speaking. but what of the boat?

that’s you right now? hrm. i wonder what of all these silly letters, these proud yet somehow shy words, these roly-poly squares and artless angles send waters rising there.

i used to detest the relativists. it would make me so angry to hear them pontificate that all meaning rests in the reader. i didn’t understand why that made me so angry until i became Buddhist. and even now, i have trouble reconciling that relativism with the love of letters and language.

shall i wave farewell to a cherished word for the manner in which culture and time wear it into a shadow, that must all too quickly fade?

oh, to be gay without the snickering boys, latent and ignorant and smirking as if love can ever be wrong when it is right (action, intent, motivation, speech, namaste and etc.).

or to mutter about the spalpeen without some tender soul immediately thinking i’ve made a reference to pink tumescent sensuality.

anyway… what meaning do you find that sets your currents chaotic?

> Before I chew and further savor your bigfun words and totally forget
> (again) why I opened my mail this morning:
> This has floated up to the top of my brain, and I can’t believe that
> I’m making bold to try to “tell a story to the gypsies (you)” . Now, I
> don’t much care for the poetics of political songs, or religious songs
> (like Christian Rock or hymns), or any poetic in service of some “higher”
> ethos, BUT, look what my heart-brain did while I was sleeping last night:

before i get there, without yet having looked… three things… three things only…

1 – never doubt that i am as shakey uncertain by the fireside, the glinting eyes of the romany watching without change, no movement around the campfire, no inflection, no murmur, not even a shifting scent to tell me if this night, i shall be celebrated, or stilettoed. we are, each and every one, clenching our talismans as we stutter. especially me. especially. never doubt it.

2 – long ago i rejected the patriotism and pomp of the world… seeing in it little more than some self seeking to absorb as many others as possible, all the better to avoid ever having to face the quiet, inevitable that is illusion. so no fault, foul, or flaw seen in it.

but that doesn’t mean the mind and body and spirit do not aspire for perfection, for pristine, untainted polity, for the thing of a thing that cannot be rendered, cannot be touched, cannot be spoken or written or sung… the thing that we gasp for, because only the breath has even the smallest sense of sensing it.

and despite ourselves, in our own faces, often in the face of out most astringent denials… we do these things… yes, you too, as you now tell me… up from the deeps, where the waters are one, you kelp bladder… bubbles, bubbles, electrified and sacred.

before i even read it… thank you. thank you. (smile)

> Thick flight of Tara’s arrows
> points of diamond falshing scalpel edges
> lashed with love to Rinpoches light strong shafts
> fletched with fine brocade feathers of Fenix
> leaping from Aletheia’s supple silicon bow
> arc through leagues of crystal waves
> softly strike my eyes
> tear their crust of mud
> lightening bolts cook to perfection
> the never-expired first chances
> floating among the green chilies and tears
> in my bowl of food

w.o.a.h.

you know what i love best in this? falshing. and how it tells me the fingers that typed were shaking. and how it tells me in the middle of all the rest, how true the metaphors of impact are… though in truth, such strikings should be tender, gentle, never harsh. rain on the eyelids that gives tears a chance to be offering.

> Whew!
>
> Soooooooooo… not many words left….. right now……
>
> Gratefully (eternally), happily (presently), sincerely
> (unqualifiedly), and flakily (temporarily),

ummm, pie crust. 🙂

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