Calibrate

Namaste,

Years earlier I meditated on my equilibrium one hot humid Asian day standing in disparate lines waiting for my visa to be validated by a boy soldier armed with an M-60 in the third world.

He had ammunition to spare and the 90-day firearm waiting period was not in effect. His background check bounces. If he is lucky he eats rice three times a day.

If I am lucky I will get through this transformation, derivation, metamorphosis alive. I will emerge on the other side chanting my mantra, ‘Om Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha.’ 

His bloodshot eyes checked me out as he rifles luggage. He found a mirror. He saw his destiny. Death by starvation. He slipped it into his pocket giving me a sullen, apathetic, malnourished stare. He needs it. My supply is infinite. 

He pointed at my battered typewriter, “What’s that?” 

I smiled, handing him shredded greenbacks.

He opened my passport to a visa page from the Hanford nuclear reactor in Washington State.

It reads, “Passport - Total Exposure System. Radiation Work Permit.”

I am allowed access to non-radioactive areas with an approved dosage of 10 mrem/hr in general areas. My stay time is 500. Radiological conditions allow me 1K of Beta Gamma and 2 mrem of Alpha. I wear a dosimeter badge to monitor my dosage in high/high-high radiation areas, contaminated areas and airborne radioactive areas or particle control areas. 

His well oiled weapon waves me on.

Metta.

Loving August

Namaste,

August may be cruel. She may be kind. 

Here in Coma-Land, somewhere below the equatorial zone it is the rainy season. Coming down. Sheets.

What it is. Two seasons. Dry and wet.

Laundry hangs itself. Why does laundry hang itself? Poverty? Lack of initiative? Boredom? For the same reason the juvenile boy facing glass across the street passively performs circular tedious rag motions on a glass door.

His decrepit grannie living upstairs waiting to die a glorious peaceful death will inspect it. If her old tired gray eyes see one dancing smudge she'll begin screaming, Clean it again, Clean it again. He will hang his head.

In shame.

Listening class is permanently cancelled.

Around and around we go. Where we stop no one knows. If he knew the end game he'd cease breathing. He'd hang with laundry. He'd go to school. Too expensive. Yeah, yeah. 

Dirt roads are now expansive expensive elaborate esoteric lakes. Welcome to the lake district. Take the long way home. Endless landscape shrines are a luminous green. Eat it with your eyes, said Saigon.

Metta.

Bayon

Namaste,

The Bayon from the 12th century at Angkor Wat features 48 faces. All directions. 

Immense and powerful.

This slide show also includes images of detailed carvings from the main Angkor temple, depicting "Churning The Sea of Milk," an ancient Sanskrit Hindu story.

Metta.

slide your show

Namaste,

The crazy geniuses at Squarespace just made Earth a safer environment with visual impact.

They added a new dimension.

It can be revealed here for the first time in recent history, like three days ago in the long now, that SS designers, engineers and artists using electromagnetic pulsars from the Large Hadron Collider (LHC)  in Switzerland have created and released the highest energy-particle slide shows in the web community.

Here's a gallery entitled Laugh. Art. from Laos.

Enjoy.

Metta.

sun dance

I dream the Sun Dance of the Plains people.

Nations gather in late spring celebrating a four day cycle of rituals and creation dances.

Dancers choosing self torture will have their chests pierced by skewers.

They will hang under the weight of buffalo skulls for 24 dances.

Their sacrifice will be successful if they have a vision during their trial.

The sun is going home to the earth.

 One vision is all you need.