The languages we speak, complex and full of information carrying capacity as they may be, lead us to forget the meaning we communicate before the utterance of words. What we carry in our hearts is of a fuller depth and trickling and bubbling through the concreter forms of words they lead us from one moment to another in a conversation, a chat, or a mere utterance. We cannot forget that each ourselves we are here. In our presencing we communicate much already by being and in being here. In front of him, before her, beside them, we stand and co-presence with each other. When the moment is ripe for words, we make that vocalization to carry through the making of sounds the higher sense for the material things, and immaterial too.

By many mediums is what we hold expressed for beholding. The expression is part of the communication, as well the reception, but that is not all. In our presence, pure being there, and being there in a scenario, context, and place, what we hold is expressed in ways we do not notice. This moment, I blink my eyes, that moment I smile in my heart, within these nearly imperceptible gestures, and gestures they are, for they are gestures from the soul, I carry forward my message to you. Trying to recall what we know, sort of, by birthright, recalling our true source of origin, that of being, we through our circumstances and interactions become and in becoming we wish to be something more than what we know ourselves to be.

Then the incidence of interaction with one another, we reach out; trying not to reach too far as to overreach, we signal our desire to partake in this world, of our way and mode of being here, addressing this and that of the more worldly or at least material affairs, and through the byway indicate this too, this expression and celebration of ourselves being here together.

There is some talk of the rush of things in the modern world. That the world rushes by, or drags us along. Absent at times is the thought that we have been making this world, for these minds we hold, and these bodies we motion. We make the world for not just each ourselves, though the world we make is one we make to hold each one, in the most ideal way we hope for such a world to come, we are making this world too for each of us to have each other of us, to be together, to have such and such an experience, of this body, this mind, these affairs, these customs, together.

Not in all circumstances can such an ideal be so. We know ourselves a certain way, through communication we attempt to be in a way so to be with one another. Yet we have become different in this material way and that worldly way, to say such a world in which we live and that we make, so that as expressed, we cannot behold one another in that original way where being together is enough to hold one another and each other. We must strive, yes, to walk together, to interact, and communicate, and one day in some future, find communion with that which is, together. Yet, we must too be realistic, and negotiate a way for today, the yet had happened has yet happened: in each the moments we behold, a way should be made with realistic manners and with a view to ideal goods, so that our walks and being together should have the expression of actuality, though smoothed, with the least undesirable conflicts. Never a final good in the material world, we seek and hope to find, now this way of being together, now that way of resolving a conflict. 

Worlds upon worlds, we must not forget each of us has been within different worlds and has made a universe of his or her own. Though we must strive for harmony, no final good in the material world could guarantee forever that no one should need to stand for his or her own. Upon the view onto the good of independence we must strive to make each and every moment so that orientation begins with an honest view of oneself. In presence we should express that we are. In interaction and communication we should allow utterances to express what meaning is carried in our momentous being.

To Be Good Neighbors

 Passivity and inaction are different.  To indicate the distinguishing matters the intention must be examined.  It is the fact of intention, in deed, that shows inaction from passivity.  Where inaction is a deliberative act, passivity is the absence of action.  When circumstances press, stress can move us into a state of inactivity, of dull ennui, of nonactiveness due to unknowability.  Unknowability is never an absolute.  It can be corrected but never fully eliminated.  The moments external to a subjectivity bear both knowability and unknowability, and knowing moves between the two absolutes to find certain degree of certainty in the facts it ascertains.

The intention for action needs be behind the subjectivity or natural disposition.  That inactivity nevertheless sits while it waits or seeks the facts for a case sometimes is unavoidable though at times becoming undesirable.  Sometimes the facts sit in a cabinet lost in space, or a posterboard hidden in a basement, but the chance they do find presentation somewhere is usually a good one when the situation having been posed before us is one in common.

There is a need for an individual threatened with passivity, or a community, to reach out in an active action to seek the facts, not only as perceptible to themselves but also as being held somewhere else in the community or in another community.  The chance they are already with a reasonably large accountability is one which should be beheld with optimism.  There is actually much which can already be known by one's own perception, cognition, and conviction.  But inactivity tends to draw down what is strong by our birth and upbringing when those around us do not reach out to us or we are in no habit to reach out amidst conflict to find the facts held in common.

There are words for passivity that leads to terrible outcomes, and memories, and cultural memories.  The thing to do is to draw close the reality that much was prepared and has been prepared, but towards what goal and objective we can only imagine or plan reliance on decisions made previously in history.  That the case was won previously can be no guarantee for a victory for the present in our future, but rather acts as a monument already set and at risk to rust for only the beginnings could have been foreseen.  The grounds were laid out or the foundation set, but now a skyscraper has to be raised on methods not previously known for the circumstances did change.

What changed?  Is it the world?  Is it us?  Is it the other?  Is it our means?  Is it our preparations?  But of course, it is e. all of the above.  To take note only of the nature of offense is to retreat into the exercise of reflection not yet of thought, not yet of planning, and short of action.  There is a need to draw a demarcation immediately as per the boundaries of the sphere for which action has an effect, and too to recognize the location of other spheres of other agencies to which connection may a gain make.  But whereupon, the question arrives as to who we now are, or in the immediate action, who am I and what do I know, there is no sense of withdrawing into each ourselves in fear of perception by our friends.  Disagreement was oft the start of a conversation and that had made the need for fences that make good neighbors.  If none of us know what the other is thinking of for nobody has spoken, then much has already been lost in terms of the sunlight hitting in the dawn that leads us into the day.

If the other did change, they did make gains for no action is taken without preparation.  But to what extents, and how so - these are questions only answerable after discussion and debate result in intelligence.  Had they foreseen that withdrawal into each ourselves would likely be the outcome already they suspect their effect in actualizing fear would succeed.  Yet we have never been afraid and we must not anticipate we could fall into fear.  Television has trained us to sit and wait and perceive but it never did ask us to act for them.  No amount of boredom could risk our deeper souls to fall into inactivity for fear for fear.

Beware

  The fact of appearances can tell many things, sometimes even essential things, but there has always been exceptions because there are many who travel wide and far, and experienced much, who have stories to tell that amaze and mystify, and works that awe.  The tragedy of the exceptional, I discovered in the recent year, is that the excuses lay bare the ugliness of human nature when it is turned to or cloaked in darkness.  The mob mentality was outlined in the tragic novel Lord of the Flies, in which children turned against one another and then towards the apparently weakness, the creative sort, the type who could lead them to freedom.  There was a glee in what the doomed child, if he could perceive it, would have seen as a terrible smog, a smittenness in the other children's own being tempted darkly into the dark methods and ways, the very meanness which in good society we try to avoid.  That glee was not only in committing some deep wrong, but in getting away with any responsibility, getting away with a smirk remark intended to insult and offend, getting away with signaling and setting off chains of events that could only end badly for the one then too gleefully deemed doomed.  Usually there is hardly any glee in apathy and indifference, but even that carries a certain perverted accomplishment of at least having had beat the other in the cruel race that symbolizes harmlessly the cruel world their perception makes.  

In moments like these, I reflect on the myriad experiences that made my life full.  Those secrets I hide away for when dark times come and I need a candy to prove the world is sweet, that being is light, that life is good.  In moments like these, I try not to forget those who bravely and courageously take a stand, even for just a little while, and those who maintain my right in my absence, and try to do the same so others too will have a moment of happiness to store away.  

There may be stirring feelings in harming others while imagining oneself to be some victim of some faceless cruel world, but when those are the only feelings that get you through the day, you should know corruption around you has occurred.  No wrong is committed without the conscience speaking up and that is the consciousness of a normal functional being.  Right is where good is done and the conscience is free so that consciousness and being themselves are free, so in doing good one is free and in doing right truth is won.

Whenever I think of the novel, I wonder at my sadness upon reading it.  A group of children killing themselves and targeting the one who could only lead them to freedom.  Then I chance upon reflection and in reflection I realize what great courage and masterfulness it was for Golding to speak up about the very condition of the world.  Yet, my inquiry continues and this I cannot answer: whereupon one understands the deeper meaning of the world as an expression of good, as one beheld by God in Heaven as the fruit for humankind in its individuals, why then readers are unable to appreciate that their understanding of the bad does not prevent themselves from thoughtful contemplation to effect the fullness of their being?  That in noticing what is wrong is the beginning to find the path of doing what is right, still that glee robs the being of its freedom and truth, in tempting one to be passive and inactive, or worse, in realizing one's own unbecoming actions?

So it is, now the country is on a perimeter in time as well as circumstances, and as well myself undergoing wrong after wrong, still the world it holds and the world before me continue on their humdrum glee that robs these people who effect wrongs plain to sight, for fear that in not grasping the glee they shall be robbed themselves of those naughty moments when one could commit a crime or a misdemeanor or worse, when in reality that glee has robbed them of the goodness they could be.  The goodness of what inheres is the only compass one could ever find in the world at large which could be beheld with absolute certainty, the only wealth ever known, as was taught by the Lord, the only wealth and possession which has no shade of uncertainty.  When the world outside is proved to be that which one in holism can perceive, perception itself gives itself away unless it is active and in activity realizes the self.  Yet even then uncertainty shadows what is deemed to be external, while what is known to be one's own, one's own being, one's goodness, one's perceptions, one's actions - those are brought to the realm of knowledge direct to oneself only.  So I ask now, question oneself before giving into the glee that leads to darkness.

Wherein Is Found

 In any case something happens when you least expect it because the way to happiness is no straight line.  Moving from one point to another there is no sense in reveling forever perpetually in the straightness of the line and the shortness of the time unless there were the focus or if a mathematical universe were being contemplated.  The times between one act and an outcome are very much nevertheless, because unknowable are all the universes infinitesimally placed within alongside the one one did travel through.  That is, the reality one knows by having just experienced it excludes to a much extent all the other realities possible.

The thought of being together, which brings happiness to some and many, is along this principle as well.  In the moments that were shared are commonalities and too differences that draw happiness when the disposition is just so to receive happiness.  Unexpectedly such a moment of agreement and just a minute of disagreement has brought us to a point of coincidence, that instance of coinciding.  We do not draw from one another in some inexplicably greedy way, but draw from being individuals coinciding in a dimension just drawn out and then recognizing that we are at a place together that moves us to a general contentment.

Still without the consideration that happiness is like a quality to a state of mind, or one common to many states of mind, that happiness may prove elusive to consciousness.  We are happy now and unhappy then, but from one moment to another moment our being has drawn from already changed circumstances, at least somewhat.  How such circumstances, then becoming a momentary world, has transformed so much has changed that situates our being.  Yet, to notice and to note each minute of change just requires yet more than our everyday could muster; if true, then without believing in happiness, there is little chance of its recognition in the day to day.

Suppose there is a thing one desires, it is beheld then now, then later, but already in the beholding one has had it in one's holding.  It being unknown desire reaches out and overreaches and never arrives and happiness has eluded oneself.  Having had held it now and then again and again being known desire has been sated and chances have appeared again and again to recognize one is happy.  So it is.

Towards Building Why

 Going to the Moon is very important for the future of humanity.  The promise of peace as the natural state of being beckons where beyond the earth where our lineages have had such a long record of development.  What had been difficult centuries and millennia before were overcome in many ways so that peace is possible.  Peace is not only the beginning but the goal.  To be together without lamely thinking ourselves as like unthinking beings out for gains lasting a moment or two - we are beings that dream and plan and work in cooperation to realize the worthwhile realities.  The idea that the moon is a new beginning is the idea that we can start anew.  It is the new frontier in the sense that the Americas has been the new world.  The land of opportunity and dreams, the society of peace and order.  

The sight of the bright white moon in its phase strikes me with a profound sense of contentment and reassurance.  The presence of the first and immediate celestial body.  A place we haven’t been, a place we will soon go.  Everything is possible.  The way there will be made.  That this one here is possible makes the rest across the incomprehensibility in vastness also there and teeming with the possibility of real existence.  To make this first step, the importance cannot be overstated.  Just as venturing from the stasis of tradition to a realm of pure potential was the foundation in human action that allow the dream of the ideals and values defining societies today in the Americas.  What is freedom?  What is hard work?  What is making?  The move to the moon will not be merely a duplication of circumstances and choices.  Just the same, the endeavors into space will bring those to new heights of human experience.  What these realities could be we will never discover should we not venture beyond this home of a vibrant and lush garden. 

Carl Sagan wrote that we are upon the cosmic shore gazing into the deep oceans of space.  The grand stage of unknown proportions from these sittings of such modest proportion.  The amphitheater the presents an infinite count of drama depicting all that could be possible beyond the reach of any or all of our imagination.  What presence, what meaning could be discovered and made that I am this one, here, this small subjectivity, that exists within what is all and could contemplate my own existence within all that is and changes.  From the moon is a new vantage offering a view into what surrounds us everyday and every moment, which yet eludes us as we travel through the wonderful devices of our own making, under the firmament of the blue sky.

To Inscribe Some Order

 Of new world orders, a few words could be said.  There are new orders - small scale and principled ones, spanning extensive ones with great social benefits at small scales, emergent ones from the multitude of existents, corrupt ones with barely even anarchic principles, accidental ones, incidental ones, short lasting ones, long established ones with new notions, and so on.  Sometimes the question is raised, does this country require a new order, with the implication that a country is a single world to be ordered.  Of course, the ascription of "world" to a country is an order in itself.  Though simplistic in its utterance, the further possibilities are ones we have accustomed ourselves into expectations.  Where this country is not a world that confers benefits onto each of us, somehow the order is seen to have failed somehow.  In fact, the order is not complete, nor should we desire it to be a complete order, for then the worlds within would be irreversibly subsumed under it, and we would have a governance that is rigid and restrictive, directly against our long held notions and beliefs in freedom and democracy.

Then why does the phrase "new world order" resound, sometimes even in our hearts?  This for we long for some completeness and holism to the worlds we reside within.  We should first admit to the fact that each of us live in multiple worlds, and the world of the nation is in fact one of them.  What can be expected from the world of the nation was once seen as necessarily reciprocal.  There was a poster we have all seen that says, with a wonderfully stern caricature of a character, Sam, that says "Uncle Sam wants you."  Regardless of the graphic design quality, admittedly quite compelling, what made it compelling was less the graphical element than the general sentiment that the country and its government serve you for each of us does our part to contribute to society, governance, and each other's good.  While such a sentiment appears mysterious to some, those folks have not the ability to recall such was the foundational reality that generated the politics and the constitutional goods making up the nation.  There is no particular outcome from simply blaming the many forms of entertainment or pointing fingers at the usual suspects, although such provide grounds for reflection, so we must find the strength in us to examine what is actually needed to improve our quality of life in each our own lives but also in our communities, and indeed, each of the worlds we inhabit.

The world is not already made.  It is always in the making, thus begging the question of what is it to make?  It is one thing to have a blank canvas, ie. poverty, and begin to desire after material goods that other people or neighbors have, though it must be said that certain basic necessities are always required and so should be a right in this country.  All kinds of folks do great work in rerouting their communities' logistics to enable others less fortunate to have what they need not only to survive but to prosper as well, for the human potential is truly great when our basic needs have been met.  This is an example of an order that have been inscribed onto the world by these folks.  But if there is no urgent matter pressing, and our world is not out of order, yet there is news from beyond our smaller worlds of what is in fact pressing, to say, our environment or the possibility of conflict, how ought one proceed?  Or if there were urgent matter, such as unrest in a community or pressures coming from beyond one's immediate world encroaching, then what is there to be done?  Uncle Sam has sent no word.

The fact of the matter is that as we get caught up with the busi-ness of the job and family, of caring after the lawn and making meals, of catching favorite shows and walking the dog, one has not yet caught up with the business that should be one's own.  Such business I propose includes the working of affairs near and far, by means personal as well as remote.  Each person has his or her own vision of the good world and the good life, and each person has a sense of ethical being - these are all actual assets one holds in holding.  Today is a good day to advance upon one's greatest assets, the intuition and power of thought, as well as the ways of contact through social circles as well as established groups, clubs, and offices.  These are all true and legitimate means with which one can advance the small orders that through the making in the multiple, eventually finds and emerges in those collective sentiment and vision our predecessors possess.  We need not war to draw us together, for war is an antiquated form of order.  Even if it is created through centuries of trial and error, such is not the best expression of what is in the depths of us that draw us forward.  It is strength to resist and resolve and reconcile, but if there is even a slight chance of possibility, does it not become more probable through repetition and experiment, through collected effort, through it as an endeavor, and so the advancement of what is good in us?  

We must not cower in sight of the unusual and the unacceptable.  We must stand tall.  In the recollection of the hard times that produced the World Expo's, the Motorama's, the monumental architecture, the Woodstock, the computer technologies, the rallies for peace - we look now at those records in film and video and fantasize those times were easy when in fact they were hard.  More knowledge is at hand than ever before, more means for communication, and so more possibility to act.  We must not cower in face of the multiplicity of possibility but rather celebrate the possibilities and own them as our own, and find the strength to bring up what seems unspeakable in hard times, that is, the good and awesome and wonderful still lay there for us to grasp.

We are no small people, we are no weak folk.  Year by year we enjoy the fruits of our predecessors, the fruits of their hard labor.  We will not fall so we will make too orders, materials things, principled goods, and more for our next generations and their next generations.  If it is to mean that we have to rework a few things by taking the time to think, to contemplate, to imagine, to talk, to advertise - then those are the things we must do.  We must not be that village idiot in the folktale who was so lazy that when his mother went away, he could not muster the will to eat the bread laid out by the bedside table for a few days.  The means are at hand, they are in your mind.  We must act ourselves and in acting together enact the strength of the nation.  No change could take from us our strength and will to be, so in being we must express through whatever avenues and channels open the reality we forge slowly and carefully and willfully with the sweat and blood of our most deepest being.  Our minds are our great asset, and so are our hands - there is no end to this story for it shall go on and on, forever and ever.

Let us wake to the reality of each ourselves.  There is great strength of this people.  We will put our mind and hands in service of our next generations, and along the way, we will enact the strength of Nation.

 Extra extra!

"I have now collected around me a sample of persons of known origins and determinable histories.  We are here in dissent with one another on what best track to make and to take to maximize our chances of leadership.  For we shall come upon due course and with great happiness and pleasure see to the wonders of citizenry and bring all the great moments we remember and to then recall we shall know the greatness of being of the Land of the Free.  

"It is a boat, I recall, upon which my predecessors all sailed.  What kind of boat, I did not really ask, but they showed me a wonderful futuristic boat not yet manufactured.  Except here, in this land on the frontier of the world is the future that our friends and families and fellow citizens remember as not having had yet been built, but that we know is the spaceship earth or one of its distributed boats upon which we captain and sail.

"We are in agreement nowadays that the future for its being multiple futures each projected from our own position in the world we know is really the same common future that we can make and collaboratively create.

"We are not in agreement as to who shall be the supreme leader to say of supreme gladness to be of service to the country at large, but that we each bring goods in the sense that we bring something good to be beheld, whether in trust, or material things, or notions and ideas, or logic and logistics, or even capital of a type that includes operative assets and standing principles - we are all in agreement that positions are made to be of service but they are not yet already made.  

"Some folks think the world is already made and thus we are propelled into narratives false considering our neighbors as our competitors fierce.  The world is still in the making, both from the older worlds and the newer worlds, we must stand strong to look forward together.

"There is a great persona I highly recommend to bring us to the point of emergence of leadership - his name, still to this day largely unknown but to me he is a familiar face.  A few decades ago he was not just an anchorman and analyst but a entertainer and provider of service, a point of contact that sends us the news of afar of metaverse from the future.  I provide here a picture and request his identity be known as soon as possible/"

"For great leadership shall emerge," he says.

 Of the things most impressive about living on something true is the matter of this life being one’s own. How the regrets and mistakes of caring too much or too little are wasted onto the debris of the shores of consciousness and out to sea. When on one goes one traverses new grounds and sometimes upon heights unseen by the others’ eyes, even those most beloved. Just returning from afar one realizes how much truly has changed and fared well in one’s absence, and how little lost compared with this little journey gained. Yet that so much more awaits on the path that one can make only makes the faraway so much more: inviting, interesting, impressive in the sheer magnitude. 

 Of the cradle of earth what can one say but that Earth Is Home. We are home. 

 Decisive being is a form of temporal being that takes into the bounds set by intention the points in time marking the beginning and the end what somewhat is within.  Such bounds are set as if by principle for consciousness could mark the beginning and the end only by its own commencing and ending which it cannot know.  This is deducible from the analytical awareness of what is the present.  

Being in the present is also in principle.  We know the present to be equivalent to the now in terms of temporaneity.  This moment in time is an abstraction practically applicable and further is with the markers of the hands of the clock or the counter of the digital watch.  The clock holds true as in in common the present moment and allows the accounting of all the previous moments thus marked and allows marking of moments of the future projected.  So too the seasons, calendar, dates, months, weeks, and days.  

When the act to take in the particulars selected for consideration and deliberation by intention knows the principle of beginning and end to a duration, recognition occurs for the abstract nature of the principle for consciousness in one faculty represents and in another cognizes so therefore whichever somewhat selected could be from some such moment at least in the past and the present.  What object or percept were possible from some future, in that the future is too a principle, could be represented or cognized or by some other faculty grasped is of a seemingly unknowable nature.  When what somewhats were rediscovered after the percept received earlier, whether considered objective or else, decisive being is once more called upon to act with the decision here concerning whether to remember the percept and what decision was by intention made, as well as the more obvious how to apprehend the current occurrence, or the vulgar, in the Heideggerian sense, grasp of just what about this as if such were a non-event.

To revel in such an encounter should be only human, but what other horizons lie awaiting.  The terms with which to grasp time should be orderly for the records show that the technology of notion was conceived slowly and historically so that even historical consciousness began to emerge for the common mind.  Orderliness with which to comprehend, or rather to apprehend being in time, could be with presupposition of how time is to be grasped in sequence, first in practicality, then in principle, then in consciousness, then and only then further.  For the continuum in which we found ourselves was only wild; only with the crafting of the keeping of measures over the continua do the actions in such as common time become possible.  Without establishing that such is the natural order we have found as humans, to proceed forward in time together, whatever time may be, the techniques and technology of time keeping may be undermined and progress arrested, worse yet, reversed, by no pun.

Worlds to be found 1

 Nothing is constant, the Buddhists say.  A moment of suffering needs not last forever, for example.  Yet, without paradox, a moment of joy can be extended to last an eon.  There is no truth to suffering, because even suffering itself is empty.  This is not to imply there is no morals; quite the contrary, it presupposes the ultimate realization of ethics.  There is no design that is illusory; nothing is vacuous.  Yet any design can be perceived as through emptiness, so that the power of illusion can be attributed to have given rise to it.  To see emptiness is with optimism hold true to the power of intent, for it is presupposed that intention has guided the illusion of emptiness to be the lens for this particular object or design.

The world is made or the world is not made.  To see the world is made, first comes the belief that there is making, and then, that the world is in the making.  Arriving that the world is in the making is to make the percepts that find transformation.  Transformation is constant for we experience the world through time.  By each moment, all things are in change.  As a whole, all things are in flux.  The change is in the blossoming of a flower, the movement of the wind, the changing visage of the clouds.  The change is in the miniscule and the grand, the each and every, and the all.  Wherefrom came, originated, and is originating these transformations that seem to have neither end or beginning is the mystery and magic of the stone.  Puzzlement for existence, for being rather than nonbeing, is the source of the puzzle for emptiness.  The world is not made, it is posited.  For we are part of the world we perceive and situate, and we are making the world by our small parts and small acts.

What. is the emptiness of a pillow is not fundamentally different from the emptiness of a tree.  The Greeks taught us to analyze a thing we can identify and name into its parts and components.  This we can do with a pillow as well as a tree.  No details need be given for such an exercise that all can partake.  There are also qualities that mark the differences we can perceive as subjective consciousnesses for how to distinguish one from another.  But when we look more closely, the material making up the pillow may overlap with those making up the tree.  And at the very small, they are both made of atoms and even smaller parcels of energy and matter.  At the macroscopic scale, they both exist and can appear side by side as though they are friends with something in common, existence.

Both are in being together, in some particular dimension where we too situate.  This sharing of space where we are in being together is something in common to be beheld.  Another great puzzle to be understood.  That things can appear so different yet be of the same, and the question of whether they are of some self-same unidentifiable source, for the Buddhists, is the beginning of a puzzle that should open the horizons of perception of self and others in this world here where we exist and belong together.

What inquiry should we make if we apply this puzzle and series of questions together to our everyday lives?  Even a child can see that we are all different as individuals.  Some people are more different from us than others, others are more similar to ourselves.  In this world, we people are humanity.  The Buddhists' discovery ultimate is that for we live in that we are in existence with each other, and so similar we are to each other when compared with all the other things and phenomena which are less similar to our human being, the final discovery is compassion which here we call love.

 If we are from the future - we would see this world is good. That things are in the making, and what was realized later is now in a nascent or youthful age, just starting to take form, starting to grow. We know how it will blossom later and it is a slant of nostalgia we behold this moment here.  We would know this is not bad and was never as bad as we thought it was, and that would improve later.  We would be aware of how each thing said was so precious, for later it would have been forgotten, given to annals lost to history.  

We wouldn't take anything at all, or at least anything we didn't need because we would be afraid of changing a single thing.  Things would look so fair and fine, each moment of our time travel like each moment in this past now, such now past, was so lonely, solitary, and absolutely darling.

I wouldn't know how you would fare later, because I hadn't met you yet.  I only know you exist in this moment and that you have a past and you have a future, but I would feel and perceive no end to you, neither in time, in fact, or in dream.

To raise a point of contention -

Pass through safely the valley of the unknown is a very process by which each move is a move taken in caution and innocence.  There is much unsaid in the present age.  It was freedom we were looking for, from the binds that inertia bestowed upon us, like so many chains that criss-cross straightly and diagonally.  We knew not anymore exactly what they were, how they were made, why they were there, if they meant anything.  This is the sin of the past - not to say some moral wrong had been done unto a person or us in general, not to say somebody was hurt in particularly, but there was something that only dragged on which had become meaningless.  It is an old memory this one, not archetypal but stereotypical.  A usual guise or veil that had been spun over the centuries and held on so desperately as though of its own will though it had no will of its own.

We had to traverse an impossibility to arrive again on new grounds.  We were on a ground, but it grew very large and expansive so that there was no end to it.  This was different from the infinitude of the universe, the night sky, for it was of our own making, somehow, it was past already but it still persisted, and in the back of the moral consciousness there was a soft gnawing sound that just seemed to grind on and screeched though we could not hear it, nor discern it, nor make anything of it.

It is not at all the past that was in question.  History is the way with which in the writing we remake the past as though that which did not belong to us is ours, but in the intelligent and careful writing, in the curating and the selecting, care took what happened and transformed the continuum of manifold into some distinct account now sensible.

They talk of amnesia in some circles, a social kind.  Did we forget something important?  It is the converse of what was experienced in the old world.  Where we strived to move on and leave that which bothered us for it was not of sense before, in the new we are not sure to a state of certainty that we had carried with us all that had mattered.  All the annals of the worlds we had built and lived within hidden in towers lit by candlelight and dusty libraries cleaned by bats but we could not fit all the volumes into our little luggages which had to fit into the bay of the boat.

Now looking at these volumes digitized we are sure there is something there, but is all of it worth looking at?  Why were they locked away, and are we disposed to decipher old realities as recorded without being burnt?  These are good questions, but undoubtedly, what we think we are missing is not a specific excerpt from one specific volume, though it may well be that the clue could raise in us a sudden awareness of something we can almost remember, if we can just locate that needle in the haystack.

What does it mean - a needle in the haystack?  Precisely, what appears shiny in the dull matted hay.  What appears to our percept as unique and relevant, yet in context of the particular haystack.  There may well be one word being sought, or a method to explain something that had mystified for the entirety of one's life.  Anything could be found, as long as the record shows.

A digression happened in case something of note could be meaningful here in this post.  What matters to us in the New World is knowing that a choice was made in coming and making this world.  The choice is to maintain a degree of freedom in our constitutional mode of governance and social being.  There is no sense in doing away with all for a few reasons out of order.  What matters is that we rediscover the specific needles in the haystacks - and there are many for they were made to be only needles and not chains.  If we could only recall what it was that we distilled from so many centuries of hardship that enlightenment became a reawakening, as though we had fallen asleep for eons, we should find ourselves in good hands - that is, in our own hands, yet true but always must stay absolutely true.

Self and beyond

 I talked about a tree, of myth or Nature, if the two be different - how could we know to that state of certainty?  It is a tree that flows since it matured to be barely more than a seedling, on a small pile of dirt incidentally collected about it, in slow but moving currents on a lake, in a river, a pond, a sea.  As it motions upon the movement of the water, seemingly by will or by trickling or by intent from above, the little tree starts to grow, and as it grows, it collects more soil and dirt, and nutrients and minerals, and all the elements that make it grow.  It collects sun beams in its little leaves and water permeating through the pile from below or absorbed from the moisture in the air, so it grows more and more, while its collection of what makes it grow, about its bourgeoning roots, accrue too.

So it travels, a wandering tree that breathes and absorbs and collects.  Its treasure is the natural bits and pieces and bytes and piles that had come naturally to it or that it reaches out to bring to itself.  I don't know what else the tree does, but probably like all normal trees, it talks with other trees and plants and flowers, through whispering and muttering and bear fruits very small or medium or large.  And speak with birds and butterflies and bees, while the eagle holds watch from above.

I read this once on the open web:

"The Lord revealed to me what the soul must say when ascending into heaven, and
how she must answer each of the upper powers:
I have come to know myself, and I have collected myself from everywhere...
and I know thee who thou art: I am of those
from above. And thus she is released."

I wonder if the little tree growing up ever asked where am I going, and from whence I came.  The way for the little tree as it is for us presupposes it began some time ago somewhere for some reason discernible by science.  Nowhere is it told how originated its means and reason to be.  Somewhere is a cause be it first cause a long time ago or an immediate cause as in why and how it is in being.  We cannot know all though sometimes it appears we can.  By each small moment is added the incremental additions that add and increase the happiness for what we have possessed, that is to say, of Life itself.  Drawn out in time, our being miraculous that we should be so here now, so tomorrow we are still here or we are remembered and so we are still here, as yesterday we were here unless we were born yesterday so today we remember and can recall the momentous being yet still unexplained that we were yesterday.  We must call forth our right to recognize that we are such as is from the miracle of birth - by each minute and momentous instant a close inspection discovers we are like born again - to say, birth in each moment attention catches is real and actual being, the meaning of "be here now".

If you have contemplated this for some moments, and notice!  Look again at the pavement and see if you can catch at least one or many stars laid in by the same miraculous revelatory beginning.  It is of our own perception - that of the being human.

Every Man and Every Woman and Every Human into the Future of Our Own Devise

 To be deemed so to move in motion forward like time that is paced upon the undulations of the natural flow that grows by measures so true as to be pure within the wellsprings from below, so heaven rejuvenates in spite of so much pain that we grew from the moments before, then yet now poised before perfection Like glow of a mountain at sunrise after a night of cold freezing so cold he said that morning when I recalled that yesterday I was frozen in a town But when the sun rose then so softly and delicately the beam casted onto my face like a torrent of warmth It was just a beam.

That night I had a nightmare or the best dream of my life of peace and calm and absolute silence bestowed by the cold And was nothing for I knew the sun was going to rise but in a few hours' time.

There was a shoulder bag and it was light and heavy Light with the thoughts of a thousand years the cosmic ion on which we ride the ride of our lives Drifting through space so vast I was recalled for a moment Hovering beside the Earth but so far away I looked down and up yet here I still stood but I was already away I knew the Earth and knew not space Somewhere beyond was a moon the sister to the Earth and she hid behind the veil of darkness that only screamed silently that life was not its own but here now I suspend like a tin can in space just drifting yet Completely still.  I could not for the moment recall my life for my vision beheld the blue globe that did not glow green though I could see green but it was no like the pictures they sent from the telescope It was a globe of indefinite boundaries Like emanation that spoke kindly of birds and flowers and make of infinite variation Though I saw not God nor did I see myself I knew in being we are in being Here now I looked down again and still could not see the ground I cast my eyes up and could see no skyFor here I Am still in being despite so far away.

Another night years later I had a dream in slumber that was passed to me in a message My papa said look here it is through this window that opened is the space that is nothing but I looked again I saw All I can't recall if courage walked me through the portal magically open but already was I there.

He was or is still a Man of Space.  We are Humans of Frontier We shall take with us nothing in particular just hte precious belongings and all the memories the cargo could carry so the New shall be seeded with the old and memories well will always project the trajectory by instruments of our make that our ancestors have left to us by their devise and their intention so that we too shall devise that of our own to chart our paths to go beyond to leave behind yet remember All and all Shall we advance upon the Will of all who see us take leave But only shall we plan Towards the Future he always said because we knew from our own memories the paths of our ancestors The Makers The Creators The Architects The Composers The Artist The Philosopher and So Many more We all came we Did do so now we recall.

 "que sera sera, whatever will be will be,

the future's not ours to see, que sera sera,

what will be will be -

when i was just a little girl

i asked my mother what will i be

will i be pretty will i be rich

here's what she said to me -

que sera sera, whatever will be will 

be, the Future's

not ours to

see, que sera sera, what

will 

be 

will

Be."

"...distorts the heavens from pole to pole

And leads you to believe a lie

When you see with, and not through the eye."

not with the eyes but thro' the eyes we see

- Blake, the Master

To

 What is the state in which one cannot take another step?  To presuppose life goes on whether we believe that it does so after one's own passing, whether from a place specifically, or from a place and time indefinitely - so much remains in the void of absolute knowledge.  So life always goes on, we pray it is true.  When there seems no further step, there is one more.  It is so promised by so many who had gone and seen that tunnel at whose terminus was only light and bliss and certain happiness not to be denied.  Whereupon fear comes upon us, this was never that moment.  There were more, it turned out, in the material world we are searching for, more we can live for, more we can make and create.

If these were dark times, the lights and the darks are intermittent.  Here a shadow, here a light yellow shadow, here an orange glow, there the radiance of the sun.  In the reflectance of the blue and pale silvery moon we contemplate.  We contemplate the moment, we contemplate the joys; we contemplate the pain and the darkness, we contemplate that we made a step there.  How often does the moon rise, nearly everyday.  How often the twilight, every night it beams a million light beams from infinitely and indefinitely far away, here we know we are for the light shines always so we shall never be in darkness.

I thought, here is my journey.  I envisioned a path, sometimes made of concrete, sometimes made of sand, with a scattering of pebbles, each so perfect and beautiful to behold, a moment of its own of the infinite universe that shall forever glow.

This path, I thought was my own.  This was a path, mostly narrow, I tread this path with certainty and pride that it is my own.  

I imagined other people with other paths, and our paths shall intersect now and again.  I was informed this was a lonely way.  It is uncertain how one's path and others' paths intersect and know each other, by what not visceral contact do we find union and communion with what is.  We tread as carefully as possible, and we move as boldly as possible, into the future.  I say, into the Future.

There is a sense we should have our paths together, where we share our intimate depths and so we erect the sanctuaries and the holds where we can share a meal, share a walk, share a dance, share a thought.  On the networks bright and lit to the mind's eye is a space like the infinitude of the universe where we shall posit forms of our own making, be it in words or pictures, in animations or still photographs.

So our paths find many dimensions, some still and always moving.  We are in motion and we are still, for we are here but not just in one place local to what we remember.  We are in many places, in relativity with each other and all the forms we erect for each other.  The dream exists in a space that bears no name nor signature, only silence in which all symphonies of life breathing talking singing dancing they are all found.

So we found ourselves, here, this unreal yet entirely actual space where we shall know each other and find our friendships and trust where they happen, where I sit today, and where you are reading, we are together.  First now, later then, and then always my friends.

 A step backward is a step forward, even, in time.  The move forward is not some blind push as though upon some giant storm cloud that hisses and blows and by one current threatens to blow us down.  No boat was right by the enforcement of one and only one single motion.  We move this way and that way, enforce or by better words encourage ourselves to move now here this way together, and now here that way at once.  Returning each time to each ourselves was the trick, the secret behind the routine that abides by the law of the guide.  To grow from each day as though it were the first day, even reeling and not quite sound of mind we must stay true by the North Star for it shall guide us to the next local calm.

On the West the sun was setting a few hours ago, and now it is cold.  We were shivering but we always knew as we know now the sun will rise on the East side of us, starboard, probably.  In another few hours' time the first sunlight will hit, the radiance in beams that shines warmth onto our face, cold and frozen though it might be for just this moment when the stars are out shining terribly bright and sharp to rewind our focus back to the pure state of being, in precision.

The slow move of the hand of the watch.  Tick-tock, the clock used to say.  We move forward not by blood and only sometimes through the drops of sweat the way was made.  Why?  What is this toil but the proof of work, or traversal, that is overcoming, which is the query to victory.

No moment was ever stayed for its being of pain and loss but those that truly matter.  We never lost a single battle for the war was always won through its having already been won whether this way turned out or that way.  The war was within ourselves and never outside, the guru was wont to tell us.  It is true to an extent but the pain and toil tease us and claim we have lied to ourselves, the world outside is so much greater.

We are still on the ship.  We never left the ship, could you recall stepping onto the same ground?  Do you recall deciding to return to the old?  But don't we all remember we revel in the state of uncertainty, of the novel, of the yet having had happened?  We are on the verge for we believe as we have always believed in this is Frontier.  Nothing was settled and nothing will ever be fully settled.  On sunny calm days we should have a picnic on the deck or whistle at the mysterious sea birds or fish with our ridiculous lines to laugh amongst ourselves with beers and lager and fine mysterious wines.

Gee-wiz, we would say, here we are still.  We laugh and hide our sadness at those who had gone before and departed too early.  But still we breathe the fresh air and are glad.  We lend our hand in help and secretively in kindness with our mates and we descend from the deck to check our bunks.

Freedom! One day, and soon!  We rejoice at the opportunity for something unexpected, and we shoulder the responsibility when the dimmed arrives in silence to rob us of our moments spent in laughter and wine with crackers and paintings and cartoons and tele-vision.  The moment on the deck is real, it is of grand Nature.  Never in the wilderness when we land shall we expect we have docked and left this boat.  This one here, this one on which I shall always sail.

We are One

 To step upon a place and find a break.  Give me a break, they always seem to used to say.  I could take a break, you said yesterday.  It is a realization that could constitute what we are looking for.  To say, bring into reality something good, something real, something that has all our support.  Not a personality, not a new consumer good like a new pop though that would be good, but something Great that we can all rejoice in.  Give us something new to believe in, to work for, to talk about.  It really cannot be just anything anymore, but something worth living for.

Whereupon the surf is a break is where the currents are in harmony with each other so as to make a motion we can all ride upon.  We are no small creatures, we are the greatest - of Rationality, of Good, of Love, of Soul.  Realizing this of ourselves is but the first, middle, and last step of every breath we take. This must be so.  To realize all of one's potential seems ridiculous, ludicrous, even cautiously, highly dangerous.  But why not realize something that is uniquely me, and you realize something uniquely you, so that he too, and she too, and so we all gather together in noting what is better and what belongs to tomorrow to our sons and daughters and grandchildren and the great and the great great and the great great greats.

Returning to ourselves, we move forward in all honesty and earnestly.  Stepping back, we gaze forward and not prejudge the momentous interaction as already done, not perceive the future as already made, not know beforehand that it was already over.  It was not made, we must always recall, and then when it was, by those before us, we had already forgotten how for we did not make it ourselves.  That is the land the house that was made for us.

If one step on the front porch was broken, and then another step, and then a chip away from the side fence, and then yet something else or that or this then that then that and this, what to do - really, just sit on the now broken too rocking chair and gaze and lament the sunset is not so bright as it used to be?  Or step up, and fix that first step, so that another step could be taken, so that Pete could water the now half dried out bushes, or Dan could paint the room for his son, or Chelsea finally redo that compost and rescue the drying rose, or what needs to be done? We must ask ourselves, what do we do for the house of tomorrow - it shall not build itself.

No more waiting, the day starts tomorrow morning when I will list the things that need get done, for urgency now takes the guise of Necessity and calls me to mend my own little house and look after my patch of property that is deeded by the way.  There may not have been some grand sense of possession for I am free, but I shall wait no more.  If I wait another moment, even the raven shall call and then who will do the work while I read Poe's poetry.

No heart shall remain broken where the heroism of All stands.  No anger shall step over the kind pebbles and grasses and flowers - we are not only a united people we have gone beyond the realm of the possible in the land of the turtle to produce such a house as the United States.  How many minds had toiled to produce the constitution.  Do we recall it was not one nor ten nor ten thousand but all the millions that journeyed by boats that vomited out the sea and scared away that devout sea monster lying awake wondering what little boat should pass today?  It was no small boat by the way but the grandest cruiseliner that ever sailed that carried us over the unforgiving ocean beneath the infinite skies.

We are here.  We are stronger.  We must stand up to the heavenly heights foreseen by our forefathers and our foremothers.  We must own up to knowing the break when we see it and see the storm for what it is, something small and local, nothing that matches up to the sea monster, and that sea monster shall not match us.  We are true and we have actualized Leviathan that holds strong and will grow and will muster the minds of a million to generate the Order we seek, for our hearts stand true and strong and our minds and hands are ready.

We are no small creatures, we must remember, and what is more, the house was not built for nobody, and therefore we are not nobody.  I am One, you are One, he is One, she is One - together, we are won.

US

 On the swift currents we are riding.  Upon greater surfs never seen we are motioning.  Where are we going but towards the future we have been planning.  We did not know we knew already, that we would be here at the moment when we are at an abrupt moment in such silent urgency recall is on the verge of happening.  We are looking towards something, a milestone of memory we had placed at a distance some time ago, when we were more certain, when our heart was still and beating, our breath so leisurely and at zen that we for some time together thought of a tomorrow further away and we made something like a vow to reach this milestone, together.

There hasn't been a moment of rest since this time so long ago, only a few days ago, no, more than two decades ago we thought of something together.  It was to move forward regardless of how certain we could be about what future lies ahead.  It was to make the gains necessary to pull each other on board and lock into some indefinite but real agreement to forge ahead.  In our actions independent and mutual we were certain in our being US together - that nothing shall stop our way for the future is ours and will never not be our own.

Tomorrow will always come tomorrow, and today shall always stay today until the setting of the sun and the rise of twilight.  There seemed to be no path ahead, no reality already forecasted that we knew certain to be each other's.  But we knew more than they did, whoever and whoever not they were who could be that ultimate invisible nonexistent fear that shall never appear in our soul.  We knew enough to push back against the unreal and the fantastic because we had something better, and so, we knew better.

I have never thought I had what it takes, we secretly told ourselves, and yet when necessity calls, why not me.  Why should it not be US who triumph when our reality has been better and truer than our forefathers could have imagined.  So what if our houses look boring and cookie cutter to those who just arrived?  I had never said one house with a fence was what I stood for.  It is a way of life built of a dream that realizes the house we call country.  The Future is the perpetuation of the house because this country is my forever home.

To return to those moments when the milestone was placed.  What were we dreaming of?  We can still remember, how?  We remember in the memory of our body and our soul and our work and our family.  It was with each moment we forged forward when so much was so seeming illusory and fragile that together we held forth the future to be one of definite and real actuality.  Like a destination it was placed, forward into time such that we stood then knowing we will stand now.  Nothing can bar us from uplifting this house we call country; nothing shall stop our way in placing another milestone.

To the future!  The urgency will not now be settled to win some petty war or conflict.  The necessity now calling is asking us to dream our tomorrow house and its people.  Who came here searching for peace, order, and most of all Freedom, if not all, everyone and every last one of us?  Who can reach forward with courage and call the bird of Freedom to soar - let he or she who sees each and everyone around him or her stand forth and shout in quiet and civil manner, say Who are you, and why are you here?  Come meet me tomorrow, let us resolve our differences.  That is what Necesiity is calling us to do today, to talk and to realize that we need not conflict from the outside to find once more the reality of our common dream of Freedom, our shared house of country, our reality of family and God and all our friends whose friendship could extend to You, to You, to You, to You and to You.

Up

 The action in the act to proceed beyond one's reach is as though upon a beach of sand so loose you could barely stand your ground.  The blue so azure up upon the surfs so soft as to be indistinct below the bright deep skies draws the path of two seagulls.  The tranquility in sanctuary returns our troubles to the loose sands crumbling below our feet and draws us upwards towards the sky where the invisible eagle lends supervision in his silent flight with measure and rhythm so constant as to be heard from afar as a jet engine's roar.  By measures of increments so fine is his path we must pause to reflect on the situation of our bodies and minds on the ground reeling with the rotation of this green earth that finds us so big and mighty as to forget the quick elegance of forever flight.

No Race

The race to the top. Was there a race to the top?  Who ever came up on top but the person who took what was necessary to make another step forward.  Their own step as an individual, and sometimes on rare occasion, a slightly larger step for their colleagues, friends, and families though often their own step became even smaller.  Too often in the daily rush we fantasize something beyond means something beyond our vision, our common gaze, the grasp that is with our own hands or our own individual minds, that we strive beyond what is necessary or appropriate towards that greedy deity we call ambition.  In the mess that followed, self-justification and post-rationalization raced along at a frenzy pace, that forces a blind over our dash pane and instigates nightmares of things that never happened, for for one moment or two our vehicle had dimmed.  

That deity of necessity often calls in this hour, and urges us onwards with the depths of a thin membrane posing as though it were the darkened surface of a deep ocean that though tumultuous maintains its peace in its endlessness and knowledge of eternity.  While nobody ever could fully guarantee our future in that our destiny is fully within the knowledge of our heart and soul, no human make was made with the forever promise of that kingdom often forgotten but for a moment in place of the endless pleasures in goods and particulars.  In the promise of the land of our own making, we have made a commitment to each other.  This promise is one that must be renewed deep inside of ourselves, each and everyone, and must bear reminders by those around us and for each of us to surround those near us.

This promise is the promise that we shall stay free, free as a bird, free as a tree, free as the eagle that soars.  Above us is that precious sky we now know to be only our own, the earth's own, that shines blue in an emerald glow from day to day, that fades only for awhile to give us the sight of all that lays awake for us when we do not look, even when we forget, each night it is there smiling upon us, glistening in the deep velvet that is the forever space and that deep and contemplative time.

We are here, yet not alone.  We smile so the world smiles too and this we have bore with great responsibility and pride, for we are free and we shall by the magic of the stone remain so.  The guarantee is the promise we make each day that we shall stay free.  Freedom had never bore a price but by the poet's words.  Truth by higher powers contain for us each day the beauty of the rose, and the lily that grows on the side of the road; as is the truth in the pebble upon the pavement and the stars engrained into the ground.

We must race to the top, yes, but it was always in the smile of the higher power that we are in yearning of the embrace of what true nature that holds and embraces us in the making of our cosmic bodies.  We must not relegate to others the making of our fate, nor delegate the discarding of our troubles: this is what I meant what I say we must stay strong.  To learn again the wonder of the child, the innocence with which we can bear a moment's darkness shall save.  There is truth, we must remind each other, in why we have come here so many centuries ago, or at least so long and so long ago.  We have been searching for something: it is so elusive as to be lost in the records and instruction manuals, for it is subtle before it is bold.  Its name is Freedom.

Upon a verge we stand, for we have been frontier for many days.  In each age, turmoils abound.  Yet, each age chooses to forget its troubles when it wins the victory in memory and fresh experience of freedom.  Upon this verge we all stand.  We have been standing, not just that, we have been sitting and lying down, in wait for something more.  When that something more is something we already have in truth, in fact, in the depths of our heart, we still must wait in vigilance.  We own the heritage and the inheritance by those who came before, and so knowing, we must own up to taking the age by what hard knowledge could come tomorrow or did already come today.

 This is.  Mess?  We have withstood more.  We have withstood enough.  Too many items amiss or out of order, if only the order from above coincides with order from below, or from the left, right, east, west, north, south, whichever label comes of the moment and all the records from yesteryears.  Studious all our work has been.  Yet, when by increments history has been built and written, our internetworks have loaded with the thoughts of more than a few billions.  Today we are faced with a new kind of challenge.  Yesterday we imagined we would go through the annals byte by byte, and through studying while recording we shall come upon a new verge.  Upon this frontier we now all stand.  Looking back there is little fantasy left of how little work faces us as the day's challenge.  For years, we have stepped forward, realizing the frontier by each moment.  Every leap feels like a tiny step.  And not amidst gold, but upon alphanumericals that spin in all different colors, sometimes even with a neon glow.  How should we sort through all these precious records and mundane lists alike?  On this topic we must dwell a little now.

In all times previous, history was made in the castles and scholar's study, when each alphabet could be contemplated upon in each exercise of the scribe.  History was made in increments that span a century, while today history is made not only in the writing and the making of each and every logic, design, and technology alike, it is made too in each and every mind democratically inclined.  

For within each of our mind is a vision and a memory.  The vision is of tomorrow, of five years tomorrow, and of retirement in the beach house.  It is each our own, but in our hearts we remember something elusive, something hidden, something by the name of I Am American.  Who remembers beyond yesterday's grocery list?  Everybody.  Everybody remembers his or her parents' middle name and maiden name, the high school's name, the face of the guard at the door, the face of their high school sweetheart, the cost of the coffee at Starbucks, which key is the mail key, the cost of toll across the bridge, yesterday morning's weather, and so on.  Then there is the face of the American flag.

What are these stars that spangle the banner?  Who still remembers the memory of the roads paved with a million stars.  In the snow they glitter - the snow was over lands not by concrete but by top soils never touched.  The snow fell last night, but they too fell two hundred years ago.  They fell soft some nights, and heavy like a downpour of a blanket on others.  There was barely any public light except that twilight that falls angelic upon these lands that shall be forever free.  The stars were everywhere: not just from above where the dark firmament was dotted by billions and billions, but upon the snow that would one day be orange pink and yellow was the dream that erected this never falling flag.  The dream spread silently like the message carried by a million messenger pigeons.  When word came that now we shall lay down a concrete road, this after the fact of stars being discovered over millions of miles of dirt roads, then too in the concrete is sprinkled a billion stars.

This concrete paving we now call ground.  As we rush from our day to day, we cannot but find amiss something.  What could it be?  What could possibly be the reason that at the back of our mind screams here I am still and here is the world my forebearers devised.  In the midst of the rush sometimes the memory slips that it is the house of my ancestry I live within.  By the blood and sweat, and yes, upon conflict ultimately won out by peace, does this house now stand.

In discoveries like these, which now today so easily do we ascribe to those persons we hold upon a pedestal though correctly so there they shall be beheld, were meant for each of us, every single last citizen of this great state.  These are our stars, and in each of them are inscribed a million memories left to us by our Great Great Aunt Bertha.  One was told while you were in the womb, another over breakfast when you spilled your milk.  So many more that were lost when you drifted off on the bus wondering how best to mend the relationship with your ex and things like that.  

To make a new discovery is not always consisting in inventing something so extraordinary as to knock your wife's socks off.  But sometimes it is.  There is a clue to this problem blocking the easy path locked with a padlock only you can open in the depths of your mind.  The Clue is always the secret, sometimes a secret even to yourself, when a problem is mysteriously solved.  Search for that clue.  Whatever your profession, I think it is highly likely that there is a non-set of problems associated of improving the good of the country and perhaps even resolving the bad spotting the country.  Be brave, and behold those problems in solitude and seek that clue that appears especially in the hours of quietude and solitude.  Upon that clue you shall find a process to search in the annals represented at your library and your smart phone.  If a solution is found, seek that forum formal or casual where to advance your ideas.  In time when we all have rediscover that childlike wonder of discovering solutions to problems everyday and great, we shall talk and discover the way forward is still the one we seek the future together.  We shall seek tomorrow on this green earth of the galaxy, in the house of a billion stars below our feet and above, and across the gossamer network lit with a thousand suns, albeit usually tiny and hidden in the wires, for tomorrow shall rise at the precise time forecasted by your local meteorologist, exactly as we planned.

The Day

 The land is vast.

If upon the road I go today, well, the open road that spans my head should spin with delight.  For what sights I shall behold, with my eyes over the road, the open road.

Dreaming not of home, but the home land, that land of my ancestry, and the nature grand, the awesome builds.

For nothing comes out of nothing, nearly, in the world where I dream I shall dream is real, as real as this house, this porch, this tree, this lake - this road.

Awesome is the world we make, even greater the grand Nature that houses our little house.  The Maison of lit networks, the grids of light those little photons and wires and towers of electricity those tiny electrons that amass and transit by the billions and billions.  For where shall we go but home always on our return home.  Even where we gaze onwards, and outwards, and ay Upwards, we shall find in our heart the deep dreams rooted in always in our forever home.

The traverse is great, for what are we, we little creatures of the day, the night, the moment and that Eternity.  Under God we all live.  A woman said, you can Know God in your heart.  Where did the heartbreaks go that dimmed and darkened that broke and shattered, when in the light we rise and rising by the small elevation we are lighter and dump the small events of heartbreak.

With courage we rise, in fear we fly, we are no small creatures, but the greatest - in landing we laugh.  we are no small creatures but the greatest - of rationality and love, of cheer and genius - small minds shall not defeat, for it is rescue they need.  And so seeking on the way lost in the darkness.  We too must muster the courage to stand our ground.

Nobody dares accuse us of a miniscule spirit for in victory and peace this country was raised and won and is now today rising.

The New

 The state of affairs is such that no centralized effort could begin as a centralized endeavor.  The land is vast and the people great.  No matter how much money could be said to have been collected, financing occurs on many levels and consist of more than monetary funds.  Our past efforts began in a distributed way too, in the history of the erection of cities and throughways.  Offices were established only at a later date, when efforts were already well under way.  

There are many determinants to the success of even a small singular project.  Large scale efforts cannot be called a project, although projective thinking always was the beginning and the middle and the late stages as well.  When the endeavor is under way, the endeavor comes from a force drawn from the collective will of the people.  This is of no surprise because in each instance the drive is consolidated from the large state of constant communication, occurring at all levels.  In this state of mind, we have already overcome much.

The trillion dollar project is the title for such an endeavor being proposed today.  The trillion signifies the scale of the endeavor.  In it is hidden and collected the determination, the endurance, the desire, yes, even desire, to come upon a grander pasture, to realize a greater vision.

I invite you to lift your eyes and imagine the world we are to build.  It will be a greater world; and it is at once the country we have always known.  The luxury and acumen of finer infrastructure could be at hand, but it takes you, and you, and you - it takes all of us to feel and sense what can be at hand.  The moment we are ready to take upon the new challenge being proposed by the administration is the moment our talent and drive will at once become committed and dedicated to what great endeavor possible in our lives and in our lands.

Begin at once.  Let not only the marvelous and amazing appeal, but let too the rational and practical reign as well.  There are great things ahead for in our minds and bodies dwell the belief our victories shall be won by miles and miles at each moment each of us arrive at the vision.

Returning To Nature

 Nature on Earth is everywhere.  

The leaf is green in many shades.  It is soft and gentle, whimpers a little and whispers when you run a finger upon its face or tickle its underside.  Usually, it is darker underneath while the top side is greener and brighter and more vibrant for all the work it does.  It absorbs sunlight and breathes in carbon dioxide.  In so doing, it generates food for itself and where there is leftover energy, it shares with other leaves and the twigs and branches, and the entire plant.  For our benefit, the leaf breathes out oxygen so that the oxygen can nourish our lungs and our bodies.  The oxygen travels pass our lungs into our bloodstream, where the red blood cells grow plump, filled with oxygen, and transport this precious element throughout our bodies, invigorating our souls.

On a nice regular day, stand beneath a young tree.  It is growing, busy as it is absorbing sunlight and carbon dioxide.  Sometimes, the leaves communicate with each other and sometimes the tree is communicating with other trees.  The trees talk not only through its wavering in the breeze, they talk by sending subtle signals composed of small chemical molecules that travel through the air.  They have to signal the changing temperature and the changing wind.  They have to talk of coming rain, snow, and yes, even hail.  On occasion, when tiny armies of insects call, the trees have to tell each other, they are here!

Beneath our feet is the soil where the roots branch out and grow.  The roots of one tree may touch the root tips of another, entangling, dancing ever so slowly.  Nutrients like minerals and elements like nitrogen are circulated through the moisture permeating the layers and strata of soil.  Just like the leaves, the roots are busy too, sorting through the various bits and pieces of molecular matter to find those the plant wants.  The roots are a part of the plant and they know what the plant wants from what they themselves desire.

Up upon the air, the branches and twigs are in motion.  They are so alive!  Birds big and small come gather.  The trees are their homes.  Many harbor no nest anymore.  The trees are all their forever homes.  The birds gather and talk over the circumstances, ever so present.  They want to signal to each other what great weather!  Who has been loud.  How do I feel today.  What are you saying.  This is what I would say.  

In the harmonies of nature the birds live.  This is why they always sing in symphony and never any sort of noisy cacophony.  Like the birds in the trees, we could too celebrate our forever home, this nature of our earth.

From the eagle's eyes

All The Fruits Of The World

 If trade's outcome were a paradise it is an eden of infinite variety of colorful things.  Each shelf is lined with plastic and metal and glass and wooden and bronze and black and green beautiful things.  I can remember a stack of comic books told of mysterious forces and heroic figures drawn from the real playground.  I remember a fiery car in subdued charcoal about to swallow the road.  I recall a stock full of boxes encasing thin residue highly processed wood pulp.  I recall a counter with a squadron of metallic vessels and glass encasements.  I recollect a showcase of slim and angular faucets that never dripped a single drop.  I recollect a glasscase of encasements of electronic circuits and handlers with remote buttons and controls.  I remember a crystal lattice filled with H2O where little bubbles and beta fish swam and contemplate, awaiting matches that shall never come.  I recall a virtual surface on which series of erudite volumes on esoteric subjects spell bewilderment for the beginner's mind.  I recollect perspectival lines that house sequences of plastic bottles containing complex chemical equations, each tailored to the local customs.  I remember the wall of symbols and signs made of twisting neon tubes and fine wood panels with engravings that mark the local sensibilities of property.  I see infinite lots where automobile vehicles sleep and slumber, glistening in the afternoon sun.  I gazed into a chamber of glass droplets in chandeliers and forgotten lamps.  I moved through the cooling stockpiles of modules of fine ale.  I sense refinement and culture in between the glass encasings slim and tall smelling like a twilit evening.  I pass through the warehouse floor gazing vacantly at the ceiling amongst the fluctuating colors of youth t-shirts.  I wind through departments and departments that smell like the sensuality of a thousand models at a hundred boutique shoots.  I fuzzily meander across the halls where hidden in virtual darkness are the moving pictures filled with plot and color.  I mozy through the ancient hall where the unusual and antique are laid out on wooden fold-out tables.  I marvel at a wall of units displaying pairs of gold, silver, and diamond earrings.  I, I, I think I have walked amongst the myriad signaling the billion star'red sky.

Resolution of Conflict

The dilemma like the paradox gives pause that lasts more than a moment.  The problem usually appears to be looming large and the moment for decision seems to require instantaneous decision that overwhelms the irresolvability typical of the dilemma.  The threat is enlargement of an earlier smaller problem, therein lies the reason that containment occurs early to be an ongoing action.  Til when?  Indefinitely - containment and definition are ongoing until some objective of a solution or resolution appear on the horizon.

In negotiating a difficult or dire scenario, usually advancement must be gradual upon the desire of reaching the compromise that promises to resolve the appearance and actuality of escalation and worsening, initially, to be followed with more defined motion towards a peaceful outcome.  As ideal as such an approach is, no prescience of the precise sequence of events is guaranteed.

Stability of a situation is no stasis; stasis is as a plateau while movement does not define whether a situation is standing.  The standing situation implies the parties remain engaged but no remarkable change to the situation is occurring.  The stable situation is plateau-like in that the sense of ultimate peaceful resolution remains in sight for all parties.  Such is my definition.  A worsening situation requires that the objective of compromise be returned to the horizon.

The dilemma - there are many possibilities or at least more than one which could be an option, whether solely or as one amongst others to be adopted.  

To push ahead upon a dilemma, tendrils of each probable possibility should be extended and at numbers as determined beforehand depending on the likelihood of success.  What outcome sought for each possibility could be projected so that evaluations were possible in parallel and comparatively.

We are not at conflict, we must ultimately discover.  There was no precedent that is equivalent, we must premise.  What situation stands we must determine, but not before reaching forward with the projective and inductive hand of positive suggestions, communication and ingenuity.

I think it is likely that much of what was said here is known by many and already attempted, many to success and some not so much.  In courage we must proceed into the future - the future has always been uncertain and unknown, therein lies the glory the past as recalled by us the future generations today.  Only upon the shoulders of giants, whether remembered by name or not, could we advance on level footing on terrains we have never known for ourselves.  Recollect, I urge each of you, nothing has ever died in darkness, memory itself is light.  The recollection of our best has not been of our strong suit of late, understandably, but when matters call we must answer with valiance and yield to the truths in our minds and hearts.