Beauty's Mirror

I’m broiling on the balcony of my Oregon tree house.

Getting down and dirty after 1,001 years away from the typewriter.

Covered in construction dust needing oil it’s a small portable dangerous machine.  It’s capable of transforming life energies and weaving adventures. Threads follow the needle.

I am a peripatetic traveler, literary outlaw, photographer and journalist.

I’m lucky to get it down now and make sense of it later.

I’m a mirror in the mandala of my labyrinth. I am Labrys, from the Greek for a two-headed axe. I write with passion and vision. Short fast and deadly.

Punctuation is a nail.

My mirror reflects everything.

Beauty needs no tongue.

I’m confidant and self-reliant. I explore the human condition. Visual storytelling.

Human energies, frequencies and vibrations reflect languages, lives and attitudes.

I absorb being, joy, anger, jealousy, ignorance, desire, fear, greed, passion and suffering.

Hurl your thunderbolt unto death.

Meditate on the process of your death.

Suffering is an illusion.

The world is an illusion.

Grasping is suffering.

Values, attitudes, joy, belief systems and dreams evolve in my mirror.  

Your mask eats your face.

My mirror is free of dust.

I evolve emotional trust, wisdom, peace and love with truth and compassion.

I experience forgiveness with emotional honesty.

Creativity dances in language.

These truths don’t surprise you after 1,001 years of wandering.

Everything you know is a lie.

Keep a diamond in your mind.

 

illusion of truth and drama

The big general picture (floodlight)

The small specific picture (spotlight)

Sleeping alone is boring, said Sunflower, a blind masseuse in Kampot.

The blind man plays a flute.

His young son leads him through life.

Music guides their quest.

Mindfulness, breathe, ease god out.

On the meridian of time there is no injustice; there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.

myth stories

Namaste,

the stories we live
comprise the mythology
of our lives
and in that mythology
lies the key to truth and mystery

Metta.

blind mystery

seeing or watching or looking
blind people see
sharp diabolical edges of conversations
laying out splendid contorted plans
program expectancies 
there is so much we do not 
or will not or cannot know
where the inside is wrapped
in the outside

what people don't see is fascinating

like a land mine

below the surface of appearance