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August 31, 2005
Oh great and glorious wheel of ever-changing delight
Hurricane Katrina, August 28, 2005
Many who live with serious plagues of poverty, or of troublesome health, or of thoughts that will always lead them to the brink of despair, are looking for a remedy. But some are in need of a greater reason to trust in this Universe with all their beingness. For these ones are here with a purpose not yet known to them, as are those who fight for freedom from a captivity of which they are not even aware. Human "contraption" is a kinder word to use than human "ignorance" for understanding how the world stays put.
The human mind of manifest consciousness is ripe with the desire to know itself fully. This desire will torment those who have not the information they need to start down the long path of self-discovery. This is never evident until all is set up, or aligned with the teachings of the great ones - those who know the secrets of manifest thought, and care for the creations that are being loosed upon the earth. We are all responsible to take the lead when we know an answer to any question that does not have all the pieces of itself aligned just right.
Your world has come as close as it shall to its demise. Tongues are wagging, but who among those with knowledge are being heard?
Information will always be in the wings, awaiting the prophets of the time. Those who have ability are called up; if you are alive, you have been called up now. None are "only ones", and none are acting alone. We are right in time to mount this campaign along side of those who know themselves as the prophets of the day. If you know yourself as this, then ready your words, your actions and your timeframe, for tomorrow arrives sooner than you know.
Waiting will not determine the timing of events. Action leads you to time these events within your own life, to engage when all else is turning inside out. Watching for the signs set forth by the prophets is good to know, but this will never ready you for this time in history. For now we all stand and pay homage to the universal laws of supply and demand.
Oceans will drip from your watching eyes, and the very Earth beneath your feet will sing in tune with the sorrow of her population’s pain. Loss and fear will reign. In the moments ahead, when words will be the only comfort found, who will know just how to soothe the hearts of men, or calm the minds of children searching for the arms of their mother?
Trembling will start in small vibrations, but will escalate in torturous wrenching screams. But first is the sound of absence. Have you ever heard this sound before? It is as if all has gone silent for the intake of breath before the exhalation of the storm.
The fury of the storm will heighten; it will cull the masses, but know now it will never end the human race. Only by this culling will the thought process of human beings ever again blossom forcefully. If you can you imagine this, you are a part of its conclusion.
Those who think it is but fantasy are the very ones who nurture its repression. And to repress is to allow the festering to enable events that margin nothing of the magnitude of human repression.
To cleanse is to revitalize. If you are clean and well tended, no amount of festering can be made. The glut of repressive thoughts is matched by the cleansing thought of human intention to remain alive, and to seek and learn through the medium of the physical experience of Self. Thus the match, the balance, is made. Time and time again, the cleansing must be made.
There will be no winner, only the rebalancing of the world made for all.
Why are you present in this moment, in this time when all is going to extinguish itself to start anew?
Perhaps only to witness these events and live to tell the tale: a most important mission. Perhaps to sing out into this word a warning, or a tune to dance to as the sinking ships are lost from view?
We think perhaps you are ones who know these events have meaning in the hearts and minds of those who will live to be the pillars of the next incarnation of the Earth, and the world that lives upon it, and the people that do the living that enables all to begin again.
If this is truly your answer, then you are the ones we know you to be, and this is the reading of the last agreement. Life is better than personal history has led you to believe, for you are the masters after all.
An age of man!
Oh great and glorious wheel of ever-changing delight.
May I be present when you grind all to dust once more,
To fill the fields with possibilities fertile and abundant,
For the consumption of the race of man
Again, and again, and yet again.
- Adam, January 2005
Posted by Neal at 3:24 PM | Comments (0) | Category: Mother Earth
August 29, 2005
To Autumn
- Road with Cypress and Star, Vincent Van Gogh, 1853-1890
To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease;
For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river-sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
- John Keats, 1795-1821
Posted by Neal at 10:24 AM | Comments (0) | Category: Poetry & Art
August 22, 2005
Sleep Dep is the new Food
or, try floating
Posted by Neal at 10:59 AM | Comments (0) | Category: Playtime
August 17, 2005
Visualization of large numbers
Here's a link that was suggested by a reader:
zooming in on quarks from 10 million light years away.
note: large download
Posted by Neal at 12:39 PM | Comments (0) | Category: Mother Earth
August 5, 2005
Hong Kong Heartbeat
what is beautiful ?
this week's heartbeat is delivered with
the palette of colors packaged with life.
after days and days of grey skies and rain,
a blue sky looks a particularly striking blue.
after getting used to seeing smog instead of skyline,
it is remarkable to see lantau from my soho rooftop.
the city is normally a blur of concrete and glass
and suddenly i see bright green everywhere i look.
the rain has blasted this place a shade of clean
that i don't remember seeing in my 13 years.
are these things more beautiful today
than they were only yesterday ?
or did i simply not even notice them
in my rush to get from here to there.
the summer's heat has slowed me down
and the rays of daily sunshine are delicious.
an old woman's face cracks into a smile
when i nod a simple hello into her eyes.
nothing beats the sound of a baby's giggle in
the usually silent descent from 27th to ground.
the pace has slowed with summer's
traditions of vacation and travel and play.
many have escaped the concrete trap
for visits abroad with family and friends.
there is something unique about this place
that draws me and keeps me connected.
it seems as though i really live in the world
because my friends are from all parts of it.
heartbeat is just one degree of separation from a
space station resident who emails one of our readers.
now in the news i hear of miracles and solutions
in place of tragedy and conflict and ongoing dissent.
did my world actually become
any more beautiful ... or did i ?
where do you see your beauty ?
naturally,
Posted by Neal at 7:25 AM | Comments (0) | Category: Playtime