There isn't really a muse thread.

Seems like one sort of kind a has to trust; with eyes to see, you do.

Benefit of doubt won’t cut it, but perhaps faith with out certainty will? That sort of kind a sounds like magic, but my hearing ain’t so good.

Correlation is not proof of cause?

discovery channel new series: Brain Games and Numbers.

Or maybe it was Nat Geo as come to think of it, I don’t get Disc anymore since the cable provider changed the line-up.

Muse ON

Paganism? There have been a few threads regarding paganism and magic. And many of them get stuck in the muck of proof and labeling.

Perhaps paganism is a world view of inclusion rather then exclusion. A view whereby mankind can not be isolated from the world it lives in. There is much talk about individual responsibility. That to me is a separatist and disconnected view. Paganism seems to me to be a world view that does not begin with separation but rather with connection. The sensation that despite the failure of my senses to perceive the connections, the connections are there, for those with sense to see.

From a world view that all is connected it isn’t so difficult to believe in “magic” but beware of that term. To the magician, it really isn’t magic at all, while it remains quite magical.

To the OP, I grew up on a 32 Irwin and later lived on a 42 Hunter. Some of my best memories are of sailing and the dock life, notably riding the bow in 6’ swells off the outer banks of North Carolina. Alas, I’ve been land-locked for damned near a decade now.

Anyways, I do indeed have one such memory that stuck with me.

I was dropped off early one morning at the Montessori school that I attended for the latter part of my elementary education and took the wooden deck to the right of the building that circled around back to the student entrance (where you took off your ‘outside’ shoes and put on your ‘indoor’ ones). The air was crisp and dew frosted the fallen leaves (turkey oak and red maple, I believe). I noticed a small bird–perhaps a finch or flycatcher, I don’t recall–in the middle of the patch, evidently asleep. I inched towards it and with the utmost care picked it up. Though it initially struggled, it calmed down soon thereafter and I showed it to some of my classmates as they arrived and then set it free after I had soaked up their oohs and ahhs to my content. I went inside and proudly boasted to the teacher who was, to my surprise, cross and told me to immediately wash my hands because the poor thing must’ve been diseased. Of course it was, right? Beautiful things like that just don’t happen, right?

We all ooh and ahhh at everyone else’s highlight reel - and there isn’t anything wrong with that. But it is the small insignificant moments that fill our memories. I don’t believe in magic, but then I’m not sure that magic doesn’t believe in me because it shows itself to me not often enough. But if there is magic, it is on the water.

Is there anything more comforting than finding a patch of kelp in a small bight, dropping the pick, crawling into a bunk and being rocked to sleep in the gentle swells?

And on an entirely different muse.

Life, beginnings and endings. birth/death, alpha/omega.

I am the beginning and the end.

That is damn odd. A whole universe contained within I am. A child that dies before birth, living a beginning and end? A person goes into coma, and seven years later comes out of it. An end and a beginning and an end and a beginning… It could go “on” like this for a very long time without having taken any time at all.

I wonder if our linear nature isn’t fucking with us just a bit.

Perhaps it is inappropriate to speak of after-life or prior-life, if “I Am” is what it claims.

Concurrent lives? Each a beginning and each an end. Maybe the same beginning and the same end. Chronology problems, not with standing, but perhaps it is merely linearity rearing its head.

A lot of possibility.

And there is one that boggles the mind. You is just me on another path, same beginning same end. It gets to a point where you just can’t kill your self and you can’t kill yourself either.

Hello Me. Peace?

I have questions regarding philanthropy; prompted by viewing an interview between Charlie Rose and Bill Gates.

“My money”

:question:

No matter what direction I sail, while I may be “a” captain, it’s still the wind that gets me there.

“My” wind.

:question:

Yeah!

Bloody right.

:imp:

What is mine?

I seem to have some trouble with that. And perhaps how easily some claim ownership is where I find angst, or some such emotional irritation.

This is likely yet another dumb thing to do.

I am not satisfied with the answers.

I have the feeling my father is dying. My brother and I have been alternately sitting with him 24/7 for a couple weeks now. Bedridden.

WTF is of “sound mind”? I am loosing it right along with him.

It is impossible to sleep as humanity moans particularly when it strikes so close to the heart and how…, I have hated my father.

Dad is resting quietly now and I should be too.

My granddad is getting buried in the morning.

But on a positive note, yet another friend has purchased a kayak, (which is hardly comparable to a sailboat), and that’s one more person that I can get to go kayaking this summer.

“My granddad is getting buried in the morning.”

Were you close? Planting a body can be emotional.

Reflection on self: I wonder when calling a spade a spade, if I have involved the editorial aspect of adding “a talking out your ass” spade, as normally I haven’t worked with any spades that talk or have an ass and I garden and have played cards. Go figure. Personal note: try to recognize when I have done this and try not to do it again, and maybe remember to forgive when I do, (human nature) so help me, me.

Now perplexing that not, really, a spade as in anti-jive, but then who knows. Help is on it’s way says 411, however don’t hold ur breath, unless doing some sort of mantra. In fact, we both know of reductionism where that leads, but if not here it goes: Very basic exposure of elementary logic, a basic difference, and either or, we may or may not.

Understand this: There may not be a remedy at that point, only an Rx of truly inescapably irrelevant, and non synthetic alchemical formula? And if perchance there is which i do not doubt in the slightest, there is no scintilla of evidence, that it has ever worked, it has always led to sorry end, the case of Manet and and his friend with a bitten off ear, or of seasons in hell
and friend, so elementary Dr. Watson.

Hey Obe, I didn’t catch half that, the experience was more like wind blowing in one ear and out the other.

“Now perplexing that not, really, a spade as in anti-jive, but then who knows.”

I’d like to believe you’ve got three really good sentences going on, problem is you seem to have stitched together only a part of each in a row. My reading comprehension is not generally so low, but man you got me scratching my head. Like trying to read a language you’re not conversant in, you get a sense but not much beyond that.

Perhaps you’re trying to tell me something subtle, like I don’t write well. That’s a problem, as it makes perfect sense to me.

“know is a very loose term”

It is and it isn’t.

Context perhaps is the key I just haven’t been able to grok.

When is it possible that I knew that, and I know that are at odds, save for their respective time/space intersections. Given the potential variability what would all knowing actually look like? To see any time/space intersection from that perspective. This “if” premise, that logic is based on. Given this… then. But what if we don’t actually know what we are given? Any “given” isn’t anything but assumption. Logic is based on assumption. A guess?

Our senses alone fail in the task. Our eyes just aren’t sensitive enough to see the light from distant galaxies. Our ears are just not sensitive enough to hear a whales song. Our sense of smell can’t even provide us a trail to follow back home. And touch doesn’t seem to work at all unless our atoms are smashing into each other. And what we taste as a sense it seems is more than subject to cultural conditioning. And then there is this ridiculous capacity to think. It can think of a way to “see” what we can’t see, to “hear” what we can’t hear, to smell what we can’t smell, to “touch” what we can’t touch, and even taste what really doesn’t exist. Apple flavoring, nothing apple, involved.

humans are a sorry lot.

Somebody remind me what is fun about this.

(reply)
I am in love with a wonderful gal who teaches me things daily.

I really haven’t had to worry about how I’m going to live.

I don’t know anyone who makes a billion dollars, and I don’t know anyone who has died of starvation; while I am aware, that shit happens.

All in all if it ain’t fun at least it hasn’t killed me, yet.

Thanks Uni. I needed that, cept the ‘yet’ part. Perhaps a differing sort of intersection, eh?

Hi Mowk, I am getting to learn things here, i graduated from college eons ago, so suprises, my skills are gone to some extent. Nevertheless, i keep plugging along, and I have much under the influence of the Andre Breton crowd, and bending toward Georges Bataille. I am chanelling on my inner powers of chanelling, and the disconnects which seem to appear so flagrantly on occasion, are just tryingto leave large spaces beteen thought, toward the purpose of causing challenges, sometimes unnecessarily so, toward the reader. ith that in mind, i shall try to contribute to Your Post, and i really don’t like to say this , ‘my way’.

I do rely on labels.

So, odd thoughts stitched together:

My Dad passed away. I was there, was it’s own story. Fucks that think when a “soul” passes it “acts like this” are dumb asses.

Empirically, it wasn’t a breath that went anywhere else. It was a breath that just wasn’t any longer. I ain’t saying it was the end and there is no soul, I’m just thinking mankind and it’s tiny brain ain’t going to grok what actually takes place for some time. We may never get the chance.

“If your philosophy doesn’t grow corn…”

~somebody’s grandfather.

Metaphorically speaking, I’d guess. [thought]

The moment one realizes that life is not a question of who you are…but of what you are.

Names; are changed to protect both the…