Data Binding

This is funny. But you wouldn't understand. When I was in 6th grade, I was so bored in class, that I used to color in graph paper. Like, using all the markers in the box, and coloring in every box of the entire sheet of graph paper. I colored all sorts of designs. Every one I could think of. Each time, new and different. Crayola rainbow pages of different patterns. All made up of little squares.

So it's funny because now I've adopted a "habit tracker" habit in my planner/bullet journal... and flipping back thru a few pages of it, the data I've been collecting about my life for the past several months, and what do I see, but brightly colored boxes. An esoteric assortment of cryptic zeros and ones tracking my behaviors ... all neatly categorized by date.

Sure, there are imperfections in the data. It's not 100% accurate. Some people must stake their careers on striving for perfection in data. Some fields demand it.

Staring at it makes me think it must be part of the binary code of what I'm producing in my life.

And what I want to produce - and how I'm going about refining it. I think I can better utilize this tool to accomplish just that. It's interesting to study how the categories have changed over time. And shifted in position. Does the position indicate their importance? Only somewhat, some of it is also about it's relative location to the other data. i.e. I have somewhat attempted to categorize and organize it.
But the imperfections come when there were things left out and forgotten until later .It's really quite a poetic mixture of organized madness.
And what a self-reflection exercise. It wasn't something that cumulated quickly or revealed its depths fast. Perhaps I'm only beginning to scratch the surface.

because i can

How can you care for another person
unless you can already care for yourself.
What does it mean to care for yourself?
First, you have to know who you are.
Then you have to identify your needs.
It sounds easy, but you'll find your overlap with other people
and what their needs are, comes into play.
Or perhaps it doesn't at all. In which case,
you are selfishly living.
And that isn't fully living either.
Because who we are depends on our relationships with others.
If there were no other people, would a hermit still be a hermit?
Which parts of my life have meaning because they involve others,
and which do not.
Sometimes I feel like my thoughts are my own, solely.
Others may appear in them, but only I know their true content.
And in my thoughts we conjecture about the thoughts of others
and we converse openly about our thoughts together
and we create visions of what our world is
and who we are, together.
We feel at home when others share our thoughts
and when we can share them with others.
But these thoughts are not us.
They aren't who we really are,
Deep down, at the cores of our beings.
What is at our core?
Except an empty vessle
which beauty sometimes shines through.
When we open up to who we are t the core, we find
a black hole yes, but shining like the brightest white star,
full of love and devoid of blackness other than that which is empty of connotation.
No good or evil here, only being.
Empty perfect being.

tp

the time portals
encountered mortals
zoned off in zones
marked out by cones

time lost

lost it in my mind
'cause my mind went off the charts
i saw beyond the veil
and into distant thoughts
there was only greatness there
balanced with an equal amount of dark
and then what was an equation
promptly anniliated itself.

But she spins........
avast mateys she cries!
they die and they die but they never asked
why should it all continue
because it is
beautiful!

the fluffy yellow dog

there once was a fluffy yellow puppy
he was happy go lucky, full of energy



one day the puppy was given some kind discipline
and from that day forth the puppy realized that hard work
and slow, patient concerted effort needed to be applied
in order to accomplish real things in the world
Fortunately, the puppy would later realize this dream
this dream of
being a dog.

And that just the practice (which eventually became routine anyway)
was that realization.

*written on the White Magnetic Dog day 6 of the Electric Moon Month of the Red Overtone Moon Year.

punch drunk

I feel like I was punched in the face a few days ago
gentle, fragile spirit a little bloodied.
But it is just Chiron, the wounded healer.
And all the Libra.
I can see the beauty in the pain,
and love him all the same.
No thing has changed in that regard.
But from this fresh wound new life will rise,
like the pheonix,
and the world will be rewarded justly.
If only I get the note across in time.
It's such a painful tear,
through my heart.
I have already shed so many tears,
that I am dry and resilient.
Just the memory, the fresh taste still in my mouth
of the words I carefully spoke.
To insight the poke
that gave the sting.
It is still ringing in my ears,
the empty sounds.
But I have to fill them with beautiful song,
that holds me strong still, all night long.
That tune inside of me, that says from this too
we shall recover. We shall find our hearts
are always linked.
And no thing can change that bond.
Because we are already one and the same.
And there in lies the beauty
without shame
I gave my authentic self
and withheld nothing

time to organize

i've got no time to organize
all these photos, emails, books
I have to spend my time
learning how to cook!

I've spent lots of time
scrubbing down the deck
but when I can't dance
i say what the heck!

Spinning bodies gaining speed
twirling round about
messages saying 2take heed
we've got to get it all out.