Good Vibrations...

By Mario's way of thinking, vibrations vibrate everything. Sound and light comprise all of what we see and hear and even those things we don't see or hear... everything vibrates!

This dawned on Mario in the middle of one of his sessions with "gUM"... (that Ohm... Amen... vibrating sounds of sand thing...), And Mario, who is always too distracted with some other this or that, re-members the joy of these vibrations one day while raking leaves, and how he had completely forgot the joy of that vibration!

At the same time, (while raking the leaves), Mario also reflected on the fact that the Universe is expanding. Space is expanding. His mind is expanding. And he knows that this space must vibrate... for if it didn't, stars would not be in the sky... (nor SETI so well funded), and we know that light is vibration... "gUM" is all he says.

So, Mario gets an idea...

He wants to tell the world a secret message that only the very attentive and persistent of his readership will explore or discover. And for those he is certain that he must become a Mathamusician to do it! "Perhaps that is the reason for this gift?" Mario says to himself, and only time will tell, for Mario has a tendency to get lost in distraction.

Now, a Mathamusician is not an easy thing to become. In fact, it is hard to even define what exactly a Mathamusician is! To Mario, it entails a bit of everything. Yes, it is math. It is music, too. But it is also musings on language as well as religious studies and the study of systems... it's economics and politics... it's sociology and science and everything anyone has ever learned or experienced on this little blue speck since any one on it even knew that they where on it in the first place! It is a combination of everything! And it is more than that, too.

"Now, wait a minute!" you say? "How can that even be?" you might add. Or "that's absurd" along with any number of other such utterances... and you may be right. Though to Mario, that is of no concern. You see, he feels he has found the key to accessing all of this in-formation and it is as simple as tuning into the vibrations of "gUM"...

And this is part of what he wants to share with his readership! Mario has great faith in his readership, as he knows his readers are adventurers, just like him. And also, just like him, they too have been seeking a path that would allow them to live their lives as they so see fit. He is certain of it! And it is to these folks that Mario wants to engage.

And it was the arrival of that gift which got Mario to thinking this way in the first place! So, it's not even Mario who set this ball in motion, it is the sender of the gift. And gUM only knows who that is... And either way... Mario's Mathamusicianings is only but one of a countless number of paths to the source... this is Mario's voice. There are few-some-many like it, but this one is his.

And with that, Mario figures that he has mastered enough of what he needs to know to best convey what he intends to convey, and anything that he has not yet learned will be taught him in due time. "So enough with the procrastination's  he says to himself... "I VIBRATE!"

Now, for Mario to perform such great feats of in-sight and his conviction of being able to do so and convey it to others is only due to his confidence and his humility. Mario knows he may not be as accurate on all accounts as he would like, but he is certain that the gist will be gotten.

The problem lies in where to start, firstly, and the hope that his readership will be proactive enough to explore further, any issue they feel needs validation from external primary sources, secondly, so that they too, can come to their own conclusion on whether or not any of this makes the least bit if sense to them.

So, while Mario sits there vibrating... saying to him self "I VIBRATE" he picks up the gift... this precious present... and he shakes it! He taps it and the tink-tink-tapping sound is pleasing surely, but it is no vibration to speak of, so Mario thinks, "what does this 'baton' sound like?"

And then it hits him: "Sounds are tones and these tones are re-presented with notes and these notes are the first seven letters of the alphabet and if only I could combine these notes with their numbers and the alphabet... then I'd have something!" "I could hear my gift!" he says out loud!

"So, let's see..." and Mario starts to jot down: ABCDEFG, 1234567 and realizes that a full octave is 1/2 or in the Key of C, starts with C and ends with C! And Mario knows that a string on his guitar when played open is the same tone when played at the half-way point! Open E sounds the same as E on the twelfth fret which is also the half way point! So he writes: CDEFGABC, 12345678 and then thinks... "wait... there are 26 letters in the alphabet... hmm... how am I going to get the alphabet to line-up with the numbers and notes?"

Mario picks-up the baton and admires its lines... the feeling of balance it has in his hands... he taps it a few more times as he thinks... and thinks "I'm not even half way there!"... and then, clink! He does some ratios...

"26/7=3.7142857 too messy, 26/8=3.25 too neat, 26/9=2.888... interesting, 26/10=2.6 too neat... hmm..." Mario ponders a few things here. He makes a grid and draws out the numbers, notes and alphabet of each:

1 2 3 4  5 6 7
ABC D E F G
H I J K L MN
OPQ R S TU
VWXYZ - -

then;

C D E F G A B C
1 2  3  4 5  6  7  8
AB C D E  F G H
I  J  K L M N O P
Q R S T U V W X
Y Z -  -  -   -  -   -

then;


C D E F G A B C D
1 2  3  4 5  6  7  8 9

AB C D E  F G  H I

J K L M N O P Q R

S T U V W X Y Z -

and finally;

C D E  F  G A  B C D E

0  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9

A B C  D E  F G  H  I  J

K L M N O P Q  R  S T

U V W X Y Z  -  -   -  -

"hmm..." he says.

"The third one down is 26/9=2.888... and that is interesting... I like 8's... it's like infinity standing up for itself... and an octave ratio is 1/2, and 1/2 of 2.888... is 1.444... which is close to PHI at 1.61803398874989484820... or the Golden Ratio... sort of... and the Fibonacci sequence of 0+1=1+1=2+1=3+2=5+3=8+5=13+8=21+13=34+21=55... which starts out as 1/2 over 1 +1 = 1.5 +1 = 2.5... which is close to 2.888... and gets closer to PHI as it runs... and, well if No Thing plus Some Thing is 1, then Some Thing plus Some Thing is Some Thing Else! and if the un-examined life is not worth living is true and/or cogito ergo sum? Then I shall examine it and if I think, and therefore I think I think I am... and by my existing in the void of the Universe is 0+1=1! and if an other 1 gets this then 2 and an other is 3 and an other is 5 and an other is 8, etc...!!! and Fibonacci was an Italian and I am an Italian... then... no... that would be too coincidental... absurd even... And sure, 2.888... in half is smaller than PHI...  at 1.444... which is closer to the Fibonacci 1.5 as it starts out, then... well you do the numbers!!!" 

And that is how Mario chose the third one down. He liked that the 8's stood-up. 

For giggles, Mario even did a bit of numerology on 2.888... and dis-covered another interesting phenomena that also made him feel that this was the best choice. He took 2+8=10+8=18 and 1+8=9+8=17 and 1+7=8+8=16 and 1+6=7+8=15 and 1+5=6+8=14 and 1+4=5+8=13 and 1+3=4+8=12 and 1+2=3+8=11 and 1+1=2+8= 10 and 1+0=1+8=9+8=17 and 1+7=8+8=16 and 1+6=7+8=15 and 1+5=6... and well... if you look at the bold numbers... it looks like a scale of notes getting lower and lower on the scale... and that was cool to Mario, too!

NOTE: Any way, that is always fun to play with... and besides... this exact thing is what your kids already know from the Harry Potter series... it's what Hermione uses to get an inside track on things... and sure that is fiction, BUT SO IS THIS! So relax a bit and enjoy the ride. This is a 1984-Brave New World-We-Divinci Code-esq... creation of a Modest Proposal... Flow with it if you get the metaphor... or hit the door if it's beyond you, and don't let it hit ya in the ass on the way out... (Author pipping in just-incase some pin-head gets their feathers ruffled and takes it outta context...Read that "About This Blog" page if ya got any Q's).

So, let's continue...

"OK" you may be saying to yourself, "Where's he going with this?" And what a good question that is, indeed.

You see, Mario is learning to COMPOSE.

He is becoming a "Composer".

And from what he composed, he can conduct his composition! He can conduct his creations from his conscious mind into his sub/un-conscious mind and play it out into the ether of space to see if it vibrates with the Great Universal Mind!

Mario vibrates and is about to sing and dance to his own tune!

And how many readers out there have at some point or other, in the course of their lives, wished for such clarity? Wished for an ability to conduct their own lives as they so see fit? Longed for the ability to create from no thing, some thing that brought them joy? Brought them control? Gave them In-Sight? Got In-Formed? Got In-Spired?!

Well, here is the "how" and the "what" of Mario's adventure... and you'll have to hang on for the "why"! That is the best part!

For now, focus on the task at hand:

BATON=21265

21265 in C is DCDAG!

Check it for your self:

C D E F G A B C D
1 2  3  4 5  6  7  8 9

AB C D E  F G  H I

J K L M N O P Q R

S T U V W X Y Z -

And so, this is where the fun starts:

Get an instrument of any kind on which you know the notes and play DCDAG... play them individually... or combine them... use chords too... and fiddle with it! That is the creative process of it!

If it sounds and feels right, then to you, it is! Go with it! Groove! VIBRATE! Sing! Dance! En-JOY!

The point is, it works. And this made Mario so very happy as this was his first composition and he now had an idea of what he thought his baton sounded like... and he went on to add "My" to it and got FADCDAG and by using chords in a free form fashion, Mario sung himself to sleep.

Sweet dreamz.

Cheers

Bazooka!

Mario Bertolli sat there... pondering the meaning of this strange gift he received of a conductor's baton... which had arrived mysteriously, just a few days back.

“Things have been coming into my mind lately, and with startling clarity” Mario said to himself, as he sat there wondering on who sent this item to him, and why.

The last few days kept Mario busy enough that he didn't give it much thought... (This was just after his revelations on that “Staff Infection” issue... as that was much more salient to his immediate survival and was still eating at his brain).

So, the baton briefly faded from his mind. But only briefly, as now, Mario had some time to ponder, and every time that happened, the baton came rushing back to him!

He pondered... wondering... “How the hell could I make a living, 'reflecting' ?” Mario just couldn't see it. So he wondered.

Than like a subtle breeze, Mario found himself distracted for another brief moment and then did what he always did when his conscious mind was troubled or wandered. He would find a quiet place and either sit down or lay and close his eyes and say to his Conscious Mind, “Hey Mind, (Mario's conscious-mind), I want you to give this to my little-green-buddy (sub-conscious mind), and get back to me on what the two of you come up with” and he would breathe.

This technique Mario used often, allowed him to go on with his life by effectively freeing-up some space in his conscious-mind and giving it the job of working it all out with his unconscious-mind. It also has a side benefit of re-energizing him, no matter how hard any particular topic was for him on any given day.

You see, Mario knew a little secret about how these two minds worked together with what he called the great “Universal Mind”. This great Universal Mind to Mario, was something that kept his conscious and sub/UN-conscious-mind’s in check.

This great Universal Mind, (by you the reader), can be translated as one so sees fit, as this Mind is Universal.

Call it the Cosmos, call it Ether, call it a god or some higher power if you like, but to Mario it was all that and so much more! “It is Universal” was what he'd say, and that is all he could say to describe what he felt on the issue. Well, that and “gUM” which he would hum to himself quite often.

Now, Mario also knew enough about all the religions and theories out there on this planet, from Eastern thought to Western (with its arrogance and all...) from particular polities to extreme ideologies... from conspiracy theories to alien hypotheses... but to Mario... he surmised that all of them were tools for the use of what he called “The They's”. Tools used by this Power-Elite to control and manipulate the masses. Something these “The They's” could use to govern and control the plebeian masses.

And you will know this is true if you have ever been on the receiving end of the corporate understanding of normal thinking! You see, things are interconnected in a very complex web... or tapestry... And though Mario detests such metaphors, the weavers of society on this dot, in order to maintain control, sneak unnoticed deceptions into the butter, uncertain of what you know or who you really are. For if you, the reader, where to become liberated from these “The They's”, than you wouldn't stand for it. And that just won't do from their perspective.

In example: Ben Franklin's quote, "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither safety nor liberty." Senetor Ron Paul shortened the quote to, "Those that sacrifice security for liberty deserve neither." (A random YouTube quote... parroted... blah, blah... but it has great ramifications that threaten these “The They's”, as if the masses could understand the import of it beyond a theoretical. If they did, then the theoretical would become actionable and the system would crumble. Serious fear for these “The They's”, wouldn't you say? I mean, who'd ever take a job under such a construct? How would you earn your living if you didn't give up your essential liberties for the security of a promise of a paycheck or recognition for your contributions? The confusion of having to be honest and accountable is just too much for most!).

In short, the self-proclaimed authorities, (be they in business, government, academia, law or medicine), maintain their power through this deception to make certain that you never ever know who you actually are. For if you did, the game would be up and “The They's” would loose their hold on you. To them you are an expendable commodity.

Now, Mario knows this from all of his liberal arts training, his eclectic reading choices, his interdisciplinary choices of certain academic pursuits, and his access to a fare number of these tenured elites: Judges, Professors, Lawyers, Doctors, Officers, Professionals and the like. But mostly, he knows this from his experiences, failures and life lessons on the subtle system-wide oppressions of those that choose to think for themselves.

Mario is not of the herd mentality. And that has its issues as well, but we'll address that later...

Additionally, Mario is attuned to certain wavelength's that resonate with “gUM” in E,F, or G... similar to Ohm.... or Amen... or the deep, resonant sounds of sand in a dessert... And Mario uses this to get in tune with this resonance to allow his Conscious Mind to work with his Un/Sub-Conscious Mind and vibrate with the great Universal Mind.

Now, none of this should be threatening to anyone in any way... And if for some reason, (any reason at all), if you the reader feel uncomfortable with any of this at any point, please, stop. Put this down, throw it out, burn it or what ever you want. Mario's feelings won't be hurt, though he may be a bit saddened that you too, wouldn't want the calm he has found. C 'est la vie. Mario still has a long way to go and is no Messiah. He's just a traveler on a blue dot in a vast sea, seeking clarity and calm.

For Mario, his journey is a form of relaxation and calm. Some call it meditation, some call it prayer. Some visualize some higher power, and some seek the ether or the void.

Mario just focuses on his breathing.

“Inhale to the count of 4. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Exhale... 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and relax” he says to himself. And after about four or so of these repetitions, Mario inhales and tenses his entire body... from his toes to head and then to the tips of his fingers... then exhales again... and releases the tension to “8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...” then repeats the entire process until his Conscious Mind starts to feed his Un/Sub-Conscious Mind.

This is where his mind explodes with a million this or that's all of which distract him from his job of just breathing.

All the while, as this is happening, Mario struggles to not focus on that dialogue, but rather, just on his breathing. And he has gotten pretty good at it, too! He can focus now up to about the number 2! And that is a great accomplishment indeed! (If you don't believe it, try it! Getting past 1 is harder than you might think!).

Anyway, the point here is that Mario is in control of his personal mind, more so than many. Mario is calmer and clearer and better for it. He approaches things with a certain pause, a certain calm, that if you've seen it in others, you sort of wonder how they found it! This is how Mario did.

Sadly though, this same calm that Mario has, has a few side effects. Things like confidence, honesty, empathy, and enthusiasm.

“Well that's not so bad” you say?

Well, your right, it isn't.

Yet somehow, by Mario's mere presence, there is a double edged sword that he must carry... To some, he is the light in the room... to others he is a curiosity, to still others, a threat to their very existence. (Sort of like, by Mario being in the room, their moral corruptions, fears and weaknesses may be exposed and open them up to some imagined humiliation!).

I know, right?

Odd.

But for Mario, this happens all too often.

“If these folks only knew” Mario would think to himself, “they'd be freed from all of this suffering that causes them to act so peculiarly...” Mostly, Mario would exhale, smile, and walk away. For to entertain entanglement with these negative forces was just too draining for Mario. Besides, he could only get to 2! And those folks need the 8-10 crowd to help them... But that is off the topic for now, so let's get back to Mario.

It was after one of these sessions that Mario performed, with the sole intention of offering up the baton to his Sub/UN-Conscious for exploration, when it dawned on him that he had completely forgotten about the baton!

I know, right?!

Well, lucky for him, his Conscious and Sub/UN-Conscious play well in the sandbox of his mind and took the essential liberty of getting it up and in there to be tossed about until it either needed more information or came back to him with an answer.

And either way, the process was put into effect and time must pass until it is needed. At which point, they will offer up a solution, and then Mario will have to weigh it against his internal ethical compass and see if he agrees with it and believes that the “gUM” would approve.

At first, Mario was a bit wobbly on his feet with this process, but over time, he gained an inner-ear of sorts and finally got his balance. (Though he still stumbles every so often).

On several occasions, he misread what his little green buddy gave back to his conscious mind and didn't consider “gUM” 's potential response. “gUM” let Mario wallow in it, too! For if “gUM” didn't, then Mario wouldn’t have gotten the lesson.

Either way, those painful experiences are gifts. Mario has made drastic improvements which have made Mario feel a bit grander than he aught to have felt, but he'll get that lesson when it is needed.

Perhaps the baton is the tool with which to do it?

We shall see.

Till next time,

Cheers

Staff Infection

The following work of fiction is a story about Mario Bertolli, A.K.A. "The Maestro" presented and written by Mr.E.

This is his baton:

It arrived via post, only moments ago.

Mario opened it and took it outside to his picnic table to admire it and wonder on who sent this and why.

You see, at this point, Mario had no knowledge of music and no need for such a strange thing as this in his life.

He was perturbed by the gift which was further accentuated by the chill of Fall setting in... when a crack in the fabric of reality caught Mario's eye...

"Spider-Spit splits this glass of reality", Mario thinks to himself. "How odd is it that we humans can't create from water and spit, anything nearly as strong or beautiful as this?"

Mario's hands and feet were cold. The season was changing and as with all change, there are moments of reflection that happen. Especially when it is accompanied by an odd gift.

On this day in particular, Mario was struggling with his current situation as an "Introduce-r" for a particular product offering that solves a particular need in a specific industry.

What the product is, is not the issue. It is a good product and it solves a problem and that is really all there is to know about it. Mario is proud to re-present it. To be it's "Introduce-r".

The problem for Mario is that as an "Introduce-r", he is on straight commission. And to be on straight commission is a very tenuous place to be. For example, Mario knew that he could sell things. He is very personable and everyone likes him. He could sell potato chips and be successful, or he could sell ships!

Now, Mario's reasoning is such that to sell chips is to make many, many small sales to many, many people and even though his margins were reasonable, there's all of that customer support that's needed beyond all of those calls to actually sell it. To Mario, that was too tedious to have to deal with, so he thought it better to sell ships. "One big ship would be as much effort as a billion bags of chips", he reasoned. And he may be right. But he doesn't sell chips or ships and this is all metaphor, yet it still applies in Mario's mind.

And this isn't even the problem for Mario. You see Mario's problem lies in the relationship he has as an "Introduce-r" for one of the countless Cool Unique New Things corporations that exist on this little blue dot.

And from the perspective of the corporation, Mario is a no-cost, expendable and unappreciated asset. "I cost you no thing" he sadly recalls saying once, to one of the higher-ups in the corporation. And it is this that has him frustrated.

And it was on this day, when the spider-spit sparkled and the gift of a conductor's baton arrived, that it all fell into place for him.

You see, Mario had done a considerable amount of work for the corporation. He introduced and sold many solutions. And through all of it, he made just barely enough to stay above water. Mario told himself that it was "the nature of the game". He'd get his, eventually. Challenge here was, this eventually was a long time coming.

You see, the nature of Mario's product is such that a concept such as this, took a considerable amount of conducting to communicate, sell, complete and deliver. And Mario didn't get his, until it was delivered and the check cleared.

And the typical cycle that that took, took too, too long.

"Maybe that was what the gift was for", he thought. Perhaps he could conduct better to get a better outcome? Who knows... but what Mario finds is far from anything you the reader would ever expect.

Any way, the nature of taking a concept into a product to solve a particular problem is a tedious process, and the corporation itself, really only has a concept, too, as well as some resources that Mario lacks. Things like credit, or assets, or access to monies. And to assemble all of the fabricators and manufacturers of all the various components, along with their assembly, testing and then shipping entails a seemingly endless stream of idiots, the first and most prominent in Mario's eyes, is the corporation. But Mario feels some need to be aligned with this corporation for various reasons. Namely, that he has no interest is the minutia that makes concepts reality.

Another is, Mario lives a bit outside of the norm. He doesn't do things the way most people do things. He doesn't subscribe to the norm. To Mario, the norm is abnormal. The third is, this concept is not rocket science and is really only a collection of component pieces assembled in such a way that it solves a particular problem. Another still, is Mario lacks credibility in his own mind firstly, and in the eyes of his peers, friends, family and potential customers.

Mario is unique. Too unique perhaps...

But somehow, Mario gets by.

And Mario is proud. Too proud perhaps.

And Mario is cool with Mario. Too cool perhaps.

And Mario could care less what the world thought of him as long as he could live out his life, his way.

And to many folks, Mario was a kook.

To those folks, Mario would say "go piss up a rope..." and mostly, they'd laugh and dismiss Mario.

Mario was fine with that.

What bothered Mario most, was when Mario figured out some odd this or that, which bugged him or made him feel as though he was being taken advantage of...

You see Mario was an honest man, a caring man, and a kind man. And this blue dot was not a place for such a man.

Sadly, this blue dot operates on a principle that might makes right.

It operates, (at least in Mario's country), on the concept that a corporation is an individual as well. And though a corporation is comprised of individuals, the corporation itself is a soulless entity. Its only job is to return a profit to its investors, limit liability and comply with the laws of the land.

And Mario learned this from a documentary called "The Corporation" and found resonance with it, as you may, too.

Mario knows, (as I am sure you do too), that all ideas are parroted and borrowed from some where's else, just like Mario's corporations' product offering... it is a collection of various pieces assembled in such a way that it solves a problem or answers a question.

None of it is unique or special, novel or new... it is a collective bucket of mix-n-matches rearranged to suit one's own needs, adjusted and readjusted as needed.

One other principle on this blue dot that Mario noticed, (and which is rarely talked about in polite society), is the deceptive nature of it all. Deception, as Mario has learned, is the greatest sin of sins.

Deception deceives and does things that make others do things that they would not do if they knew that they had been deceived.

This is where Mario is today.

An articulation of a realization of a deception.

And Mario is pissed that he did not catch it, for Mario is not a person that can't understand new things! Quite the opposite, in fact. Mario understands the doings of language better than most, as he has spent many a waking hour contemplating what words do!

Mario knows things.

And Mario does not subscribe to the norm. To him, it is abnormal, like we said above. Mario can read between the lines.

But, there is a problem with Mario's ability to see forward with his super-hero- read between the lines - skill-set. He, like most of us, can only see it once it has been done.Once time has past. Some call it common sense. And that too, is only common, once someone knows it... up until that time... it remains unknown... un-common.

Now, Mario has been doing a great deal of work with the corporation, and as each sale turned concept into reality, Mario had to wait for his pay-off. He'd sell the item... get the 50% down, (check made to the corporation), maybe get a few pennies to survive off of... and wait the supposed 8 weeks until the product was produced.

But the 8 weeks turned to twelve. 12 turned to sixteen... and the delivery added another week. Then the buyer took 30 days to pay and the check took 10 days to clear. So Mario added this all up and found that 26 weeks from the time of a sale was too long!

In addition, every set-back in production added time to Mario's date of getting paid... every delay extended Mario further.

And if Mario had only sold one unit, that would be frustrating enough, but since he sold many more and multiples of these units, each with its own unique set of variables, delays, set-backs and small piteousness of funds off of which to live, made this an accounting and collections nightmare!

"Who has paid, how much has been payed, what was owed, what was due, when would it be paid..." Phone call upon phone call... un-replied to emails and nothing in writing all made for a very stressful relationship between Mario and the corporation.

"Call you next Tuesday" the corporation would say when an inquiry of if any funds had posted, which was followed with a "See you next Thursday" and an over generous offer for some supposed training that was needed. They can "see you need training" and are willing to teach you until you're taught on the principles of how to sell more... after which, if you did well with your training, some unreasonable expectation of some return on their investment in the form of immediate sales in some unrealistic time-line is demanded, at which point they throw out there that perhaps you "can't understand new things" as you could never meet their demands in the first place.

The corporation calls this "normal thinking". The corporation asserts that you "can't understand normal thinking" and Mario thinks "Can you NOT talk? Just send me my check!" But it falls on deaf ears.

Mario feels defeated.

Mario waits.

Mario knew at the time he took the gig on that it was not ideal. Mario knew that in order for him to remain the unique person that he was, not having any resources outside of his personality and such, that Mario would have to make some concessions.

What Mario did not know then, was that he would subscribe to a prescription that he himself uttered, which set the whole ball in motion.

Mario should never have said "I cost you no thing". For it was this very utterance that made him the fool.

Mario knew that to become an "Introduce-r" for any one of the countless Cool Unique New Things corporations that exist on this little blue dot was to become ensnared in a game.

Mario knew that deception.

Mario is not a person that can't understand new things!

Mario knew he should have told 'em to "go piss up a rope" the moment the corporation said "Call you next Tuesday" or "See you next Thursday" on his money or when they offered to teach him until he was taught tight as a string and about to snap, or when they said "see you need training" or that he "couldn't understand new things".

Mario knew what marginalized meant. What the cost of unique was. What the price for non-norm behavior would be.

And Mario would keep his mouth shut.

Mario would survive.

Mario knew that Mario was not too keen on the corporate understanding of "normal thinking", and also that they were watching his every move, but Mario is only human, and prone to making foolish mistakes. With this at least, Mario was able to sleep soundly. Mario is no one's Boo-Boo Doll. Mario is a force!

And that in the grand scheme of things, the universe wouldn't hardly notice the insignificance of any of it, anyway.

For it is but one small story speck on one small blue dot in the grand cosmos and there are many more much more horrific examples which take up so much more of this small blue dot that are all but specks upon that dot and that that dot is but a small speck in any of it all anyway.

So, Mario is not all that concerned, just a bit irritated.

"It's as pretty as spider-spit" he'd say. "A new perception of reality".

"But this baton... that's something altogether different..." Mario thought. "What could it mean?"

And that is where we'll leave Mario today... contemplating an odd gift.

Till next time, Cheers

GONE FISHING!

Plenty of Fish...

Wow.

Where does one start with this?!

I am a trout.

Trout is not an option on POF... (Plenty of Fish...)

I am also a Cancer.

And Crab is an option on POF...

Hence, as a Crab, and a Cancer, I will approach this thing sideways... and as you'll see... I will transform from a Crab, back into a trout, then back into me.

We'll call it an adventure in the demystification of fishing via the mythos of Mr.E! (Sure, why not. It's a good title!)

So, let's sully-up to this underwater gurgle-phone and blather some babble on the inter-stream about the types of "Fishy's" this pond of absurdity has to offer...

The water, as you'll see, is a bit murky...

That is certain.

And from a 10,000ft view... it looks inviting... though a bit muddy.

So, you stick a toe in to see how the water is, and mermaids flutter about with flowing hair and the sweet sounds of Siren's songs squealing in the wee hours...

Harps of heart-strings strummed to fantastical visions of vivacious vacillating vixens of every shape, size, and color... All seemingly too eager to please... all accosting your eyes and imaginations. (Hint: accost too high to pay to play, as you will see, this consumption-"con" consumes completely).

As that muddy-murkiness clears a bit while you fill-out form after form of this and that... and are then  presented with some supposed, actionable information. But as you review this actionable information, you dis-cover that you knew all this about yourself already... it is your archetypal personality trait... and like looking at a horoscope reading, it's vague and general enough to apply as the reader so sees fit.

But, it's your fishing-license if you will...

And no "license", no fish.

So, you pay the fee... how ever grudgingly, and say "HELL with it all! I'm going FISHING!"

So, you grab your rod, hang-up your sign and off ya go!

And then SPLASH! 

You jump in, feet first!

And the waters start to bubble almost immediately! Air pockets start to form... magma flows from the deep and sulfuric gases are emitted from down below... Then, the water starts to taste like egg-shells and aluminum-foil!

But, your hopes are high that this is a big enough pond and that you can get away from the stink of it all, and long before you can even get close to the extent of it all...

You need to find your bearings, as things are not what they appear to be. You are all turned around, upside down and grabbing for a surface that doesn't exist. You've even swallowed a bit of the water and are choking underwater, which is not an easy thing to do. Finally, you do find your bearings... or so you think.

One such bearing is geographical. And if geography was a pond, than mine is full of Carp. And quite frankly, that may be the whole problem in a nut shell... But we still have to explore, just to make sure... There could be a gem out there under some rock, lost in the weeds... that would like to play!

Anyway...

Carp.

Invasive, shit-eating, miserable looking, bloated, un-happy, listless, life-less, worth-less, tooth-less, ugly fucking Carp!

"The water is muddy", you say to yourself, "don't get the blues..." as a way to ease that shock of so many damned Carp!

And so, you decide to narrow your bearings a bit and find some more productive waters... It's a big pond, right? Plenty... right?

You notice that Age has a lot to do with it... and the POF folks kindly put it at a statistically appropriate level... (10 yrs either way),... so you change that Age about and start to see Goldfish!

Tons of 'em...

From solid to multi-colored to bulge-eyed, bright-eyed, fan-tailed, flutter-bugs... all of which think that they are big fish! (Funny on one hand... sad on another... but boy do they flutter!)

All a glisten and lost in some wUnderland of hopeful wishing's that the big bad shark will find and eat them up, yumm...

Now, with a little practice, you learn to squint underwater... and can, over time, begin to ever so slightly visualize every single one of these little Gold-fishy's, turning into a shit-eating Carp.

And ya know how they got there, right?! (Hint:Remember that piece of Dealing with Your Shit
 some time ago? Well, there ya go... ya just flushed and forgot, didn't ya?)

Now, one way of fishing Carp is called snagging.

And snagging is a brutal technique of taking a three-pronged hook with rough barbs and yanking it back rapidly. An aggressive strip-strike with your entire rod! Ya gotta yank it hard!

In essence, the hook sinks in the rotting fatty flesh of the shit-eating Carp and tears into it.

The result is, blood and slime, sweat and shit floating everywhere...

But they fight like mad, and then just give-up!

And ya can't even eat 'em... So now ya got a dead useless fish, good for nothing but the fertilizer in the garden.

No good.

Junk-fish fishing on junk food eating Carp is CRAP!

Now, the Gold-fishy's know they're gonna turn into Carp one day, and they know that snagging hurts, so they try as best they can to dole out as much "s" as they can. (One might call it a process of X-ing... or the taking of something from something while leaving some thing behind, unnoticed, and bitter.)

So, snagging, for all intents and pour-pus-is, to turn it  into Nagging for all that "s" X-ing they mustered to hook you, hoping that the Fisher-man himself gets snagged on the Sneaky-Shit this snagging business is all about!

Indeed.

And any Fisher-man that sips on the seemingly succulent juices of these "s" X-ing Gold-fishy's is gonna get what he deserves!

"Desire leads to suffering" some one once said... And the raw end of a gut costs too much for the small bit of splishy-splashing's it produces.

So, that Fisher-man has now got to think a bit differently... Does he really want to play with these types of fish?

No.

He has got to change his tactics if he gonna hook a "nice" fish. One you could eat let's say...

And one way of doing that is to change bait and technique...

Now, this new way of fishing entails taking that same treble-hook... and instead of snagging... the Fisher-man loads that hook with chicken-livers, fish-heads and other such nasty, mucky, sun-baked, smelly shit and puts a big honkin' piece of lead on to the end of the line to hold it all in place.

Now, with a bobber, placed high enough up the line, he chucks his rig of treble-hooked, lead-weighted, bobber placed bait shit as far into the water as his skill will allow, and just waits.

And waits...

And waits...

He drinks a few beers...

Eats a few sandwiches...

Snags a few chips...

Drinks another beer...

And waits...

And waits.

***

And just as the sun is about to set, the bobber goes kurr-plunk, the rod-tip bends and the fight is on!

Now, for a good twenty minutes or so, reeling in and letting out and re-reeling in again... the Fisher-man finally gets to see his quivery quarry... which presents an odd query of qualm...

This time, the Fisher-man caught a Cat-Fish!

Another shit-eating, slimy snake like bottom-feeding turd of a fish!

"Awe, hell" the Fisher-man says, "at least I can eat this one...", provided one can nail its fucking head to a board and peel-back the slimy skin of this three-pronged shit-eating, slimy snake like bottom-feeding turd of a fish! And then, only if he can get the image of CATS out of his head! (Hint: Cat anything will piss on your shit, run! Just take my word on it, run).

That's right, I said "three-pronged"... CAUSE THAT is pay-back, too! Those three spine-like needles from the back and two dorsal s are loaded with a poison! Prick your hand on that, and it's gonna sting like mad! So handle these buggers with care... "I'm just sayin...". No one should ever be so hungry as to eat one of these damned fish, it'll ruin your palette on finer fish for sure!

Well, by this time, the Fisher-man has once again got to re-evaluate his approach.

So he washes the slimy muck off his hands and the ceiling and calls it a night.

And as he sleeps, he sees visions of Sun-Fish and Blue-Gills... Perch... and Crappie... and look! Even a Blow-Fish! Now wouldn't that be fun?! (Nah... Scratch the Blow-Fish, way too many pricking-prongs on that porcupine!)

Come morning, the crack-of-Dawn has him excited, and he rises to his feet for another day of FISHING!

And he's gonna chase down some of those fishy's he saw in his dreams!

Now, the Fisher-man goes out to the bait shop, and gets all the gear he needs to catch him a gaggle of Pan-fish... cause everyone knows, Pan-fish are good eatin'!

So he grabs his grubs... wax-worms... and some night-crawlers... some crickets... and some minnows...

He buys hooks and shot, and barrel-swiggles to swivel which ever way, (with and without clasps of various sizes), and studies the maps to find where some of the best "lays" will be...

Again, he grabs his rod... hangs his sign... and off he goes!

***

Gone Fishing! Day 2...

Now, loaded down with all of this new gear, buckets of this, bags of that, he opens his tickle box... and starts to rig his line to entice these little fishy's to his hook.

What is exciting about this type of fishing is that the Fisher-man can have a gazzillion lines rigged in a gazzillion configurations and various depths to see if anything bites...

And as always... something does bite. And usually, on two or three of the lines at the same time!

And this causes great confusion, and a good number of fish are lost, swallow the hook too deep, or are just too small to keep. But ya fill your basket with a bunch of Pan-fish... and Pan-fish are good eatin'!

Only problem is, they aren't substantial enough.

Pan-fishing really only feeds the ego. It says "Hey, self! You're a good Fisher-man, good job! Wasn't it fun to hook all those fishy's? Play 'em one right after the other... several at a time even?!!!" and the Fisher-man about breaks his own back patting him self.

And patting ones self gets old and is also like too much Cat-Fish... More like Carp actually... a junk-food version of salt, fat and sugar... sure ya crave it, but ya ain't gonna be healthy if that's all ya eat!

So, the Fisher-man has yet once again, got to re-evaluate his approach.

Carp suck.

Gold-Fishy's suck and turn into Carp.

Cat-Fish suck and may hurt ya.

Pan-Fish are fun but still suck.

And yet, the Fisher-man does not loose hope!

No! Not he!

He has Pickerel and Walleye, Pike and Sturgeon, and Bass of every stripe or spot, yellow or rock, large mouthed and small to choose from still!

So after a long second day of fishin', the Fisher-man packs up all his gear and calls it a day.

Tomorrow is gonna land him his dream fish!

Yeah!

You just wait and see!

So, the Fisher-man goes home, rests-up, dreams of all these new fish and plans another day of FISHING!

"Plenty of 'em" he says... and off to sleep he goes.

Now, when the next morning rolls around... Dawn is no longer on his mind. He has set his sights higher than that... and off to the bait shop he goes.

And, new rods... and new reels... fluorocarbon lines invisible in water... spoons and popper's... jiggs and weed-free this's and that's... depth finders and underwater cameras... and a fleet of vessels to carry it in to his prey...

A Bass-Boat... a sail boat... a pontoon... a Hummer... a little red Corvette... a Porsche...  a Harley...

A mid-life crisis...

And wouldn't ya know it... these shiny bits lure in the fishy's like mad!

But these fishy's are a different breed all together... the young one's are all bronze and shiny, and the old one's are like tanned leather... and none of 'em are ever gonna be on the Fisher-man's menu...

So, the Fisher-man decides to be a bit more modest, and gets a few of the more logical trappings this new type of fishing requires... and gets enough to try his luck at all the Pickerel and Walleye, Pike and Sturgeon, and Bass of every stripe or spot, yellow or rock, large mouthed and small.

And off he goes... grabs his rod, hangs his sign... Another day of FISHING!

Again, he studies his maps, finds what he thinks will be good "lays" and sets-up shop.

Which to choose... which to choose...

And he fumbles around for the next few days, trying to get the hang of all this crap and comes out of it all frustrated as hell.

He now needs that Bass-Boat, that depth-finder... that Hummer... cause nothin' is even lookin' at his presentation... Seriously... He's fishin' from a DOCK! From the SHORE-Line!

He ain't got what it takes to take these fish...Lure-less lacks luster to leather-ed lovelies young and old and he packs up, depressed and defeated. The  Pickerel and Walleye, Pike and Sturgeon, and Bass of every stripe or spot, yellow or rock, large mouthed and small and the other breed are all beyond his reach.

Home he goes.

He drinks a few beers... fires up the BBQ... and eats a few Cheesy-Metz... then calls it a night.

And wouldn't ya know it, in the middle of the night, an idea hits hit!

Muskellunge!

Yes...

Muskellunge!

Muskies!

The inland barracuda's of fresh water!

And back to sleep he goes.

Now, in the course of his sleep, he plays through Muskellunge in his mind... all the gear... all the toys... and the gadgets... the boats... the trucks to pull those boats... the depth-finders... and trolling motors... ship to shore radios... and live-catch boxes...

And wakes-up to the realization that this too, is beyond his means.

But at least this time, he ate breakfast first and didn't even bother to hit the bait-shop.

He leaves the fishy's to go about their day of hookin' on the Fisher-men that are fishin' them today.

And besides, we still have Trout!

Rainbow's... and Brook's... and Brown's... Cut-Throat's and Green-Back's, too! And yes! More gear, rods, reels, lines, hooks, fur and feather... leaders... tippit... tools and toys... and waders and on and on...

Imitation's!

Flies to fly!

Oh yes!

What fun!

What trickery!

What deception!

A transition has occurred!

No more bait chuggin' at these here fishy's... no!

We're gonna entice them to our offering with a more gentlemanly approach!

Something haughty just might do the trick to find that something naughty!

Yes...

Deceive.

Make 'em think they got something good to eat...

Trick 'em into hitting your taste-less fluff of feathers and fur... and then Rip 'em out of their atmosphere and into yours!

Watch 'em wiggle and squirm!

See the horror in their eyes when they realize they've been had...

Then release 'em. (It's the humane and proper thing to do...)

Right?!

WRONG!

So wrong.

Wow.

Seriously, I'm starting to think this fishin' shit is for the birds... and they need their feathers to fly! And even flying-fish, which ain't got feather, don't like feathers! They're tasteless!

So anyway, I think I'm just gonna hop on out of this here pond and go row my boat gently down the stream... take in the scenery... go merrily, and maybe... somewhere's along that winding river of life... somewhere's in that babbling brook... that sea, ocean, cloud of life... another boat will float up next to mine and we can tickle oars a bit...

And how cool would that be?!

Much more to my liking than the 'poof' of a POF or the kooks on the Zoosk's...

It's just too damned depressing and I am a much more happy and positive guy than that!

Heck, that some imagined "we" is not to complete this Mr.E, but to compliment both the she and the me... to enhance a romance with wondrous possibilities!

That tickles my fancy and my palette...

Now HURRY-UP Ms. Ima Floatina Bout and come splash around!

LOL!

Cheers

"Peachclam"-mation Point!

Tom Robbins' Still Life With Woodpecker, was gifted to me "From one outlaw to another" by a brilliant red headed soul, to whom I am grateful for having had known, however briefly. And after having delved deeply into this tome, I am relieved to have found that Tom's Remington SL3 had sputtered out, not much unlike 'love' and ended with the last few pages written by hand... and beyond CHOICE, my most poignant re-membered point presented reads as follows: "It is contrary to the nature of mystery <sic> to stand still." Time well spent like a Mayfly in this river of life... I am humbled by happenstance, yet again. Travel well, row gently, merrily, dream, tow, let go... and flow... Cheers

Elemental Happenstances... happen-stancing...

This one deals with the List Shit... 

The Shit List... 

As I am listlessly listing lists of "List's"... I list over into a new realization that:

List's are shit.


Pure, unadulterated BULLSHIT!


Yet, by looking at it, (list's in fact), it can become a liberating experience to just list your lists! And this new list, now becomes a 'List of List's'! And no matter how you try to divide your shit... compartmentalize it... it just grows and grows and grows... Shit happens...


So, in order to use the magic of naming, or more specifically, the magic of words, one must take ownership over the word itself. And here, for our purposes, the word today is "List"...


So lean on over... in here a bit... List over... and List-en to this...


A "List" can be, by its very nature... untameable and never-ending. Overwhelming in fact! Hence why so many of us hate them!


They, meaning "List's", are vampiristic, soul-sucking excercises that must be exorcised into oblivion! One must get free from the force of list upon list, upon list... infinitum... ad nausium...


They, again meaning "List's", must be nutured, casterated and made tame!


Crushed! And SMASHED!


And in order to crush, Smash! and tame them, (again, these "List's"), one must sadly... list them...


I know, right?!


So, take a moment... Just breath... OK?

All better?

Good.

Let's continue:


This is exactly why "List's" are so damned evil. Just by naming them, they are envoked! Like some incantation, smoke enters the room to fill it (both the lister and the room), with dread and gloom... A green, low-laying fog of despair and listlessness rushes in... usually undetected...



They are sneaky like that...



But have no fear! For here lies a clue!!! This listlessness can be de-"ness"ed and segmented, to become somewhat more listless! And that can be de-"less"-ened, to become just a naked little-list, which is much more easy to deal with! And we can 'In-"ness"-ance', make that little list, less than its high-ness would like for you to think of her as... as from this... and from which, she is no high and mighty word... nor has she any royal claim in the land of words... but is only just a small irritation (and possible little gift), trying to make it in a big-word-world and in which, (with the help of many witches, warlocks, word-smiths and wanderers...), will allow you to kill the little bitch! (And don't get all bent out of shape here... you've cursed this little bitch called "List's" a thousand times over... and every-time you have had to face her... you've dreaded every moment... even when you lie to yourself and say... "we'll, it has got to be done, so here goes...", and you know in the back of your mind, that you hate her and you think your little-list won't grow into that MONSTER?! BULLSHIT! You know that somehow she will always grow! And she does... and you hate her for it. You loath the sight of her! "Damn it!" You've said it... and can't deny it... so deal with it and move on... I'm painting here.)


Now, for all practicle purposes, one must keep in mind, that when dealing with "List's", that one does not get lost in the 'Land-of-List's'... (Imagine a large echo-chamber here...) for this little-list-bitch it is a snake, eating its tail... and by so doing, grows as it consumes itself, into a larger and more unmanigable monster... And as each of these little respective monsters grows, then... they begin to become incorporated... to conspire... to become legion... and as they become incorporated... they get even more unmanigable! AHHhh..!!! The horror...


And the only way to kill it is to let it gorge itself, on its self until, for nothing else, it runs out of its own juices and becomes a listless mess of nothingness! Let her lay there... and good riddance!


She has been exorcised!

And you are now able to be free from the clutches of "List's", that if you listened... would find that it was list-less-ened... and the list was ended, dead and done...

Now the next time she rears her ugly little head, like a weed in a flower-bed, you'll identify it, pluck-it by the roots and throw it on that pile of How-to-Deal-with-your-Shit", that makes-up those life lessons... and there lies but yet another clue as to the doing's of language... its magic... its naming... and your "Lessons" will become: "Moresons" and we always know MORE is better than LESS! And yes, Less is More... but that is another story for another time...

Travel well and row gently, merrily! It is all but a dream in the stream...


Cheers

Elemental Happenstance's...

The Universe speaks and all one needs do is tune-in.

I have been blessed.

GRACE was given to me as you all know... and I live in a dream-stream land of happenstances that words fall short of expressing.

And now, the Universe has turned her eye on me still further... to carry a message:

And you all know what that message is... "Row gently and merrily, it is all but a dream, let go... go with the flow...".

And some of you know my passion for water.

My PASSION for metaphor...

My VOICE...

You know I was a DJ way back when...

You know I was an Account Executive for a small division of Experian, way back when...

You know I was an Account Executive for Prime Media in their Marketing Division with three media properties...

You know I was also, 'Vacerro-Pitsero-Roe-Kon-Roe-llerro' delivering pizza and chicken wings in Denver...

Some of you have known me at the Handy-Man... The Security Systems Guy... The phone guy... the Corner Guy... the what-ever ya call it guy... the home-less guy... the sick and dyin guy...

Some have seen me at my best... some at my worst.

And some have seen something else...

Now, what is really awesome is, that all of this has made me into the me that is.

And the me that is... has congelled into a Mr.E. (Congelled is a combination of combining and gelling in mystical ways... it is happenstance and serendipitous... it is full-circle... it is fluid.)

It is elemental in the physical, and meta in the beyond of that...

It is fluid.

And why any of this is important is:

Everything that has happened in my life and is now currently happening is interconnected into a personal dream that I believe is a mirror to the collective whole. You read about it in the last post with the defining of Myth... the Joeseph Campbell quote is but one example.

Another is from "The Heart of Understanding" by Thich Nhat Hanh... ISBN: 0-938077-11-2.

In there, you will read about INTERBEING. It is a story about a cloud floating in a sheet of paper.

Thich Nhat Hanh tells how water is a metaphor for understanding. He tells how without the cloud, the paper can not exist.

And you know how clouds live in air streams, and you know that I live in an Airstream, and you know her name is GRACE, and you know I flow... you know I row... you know I stream this dream here under the moniker of Mr.E...

And now, I want to help you to tie together the personal me, to the professional me... to demystify a vision that I believe to be nothing short of Magical!

Mystical even!

A 'Magical Mr.E Tour'!

So, fasten your seat-belts, cause this is gonna warp your minds:

Now take pause here.

Re-member that story 'Illusions'... Remember the river... the clingers... and the let go! And watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mm0KFOq9ag&feature=share

And this:

http://wimp.com/myvoice/

And this but once again:

http://mrestreaming.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-aint-heavy-hes-my-brother_31.html

You read "A Serendipitous Why", and followed the illness...

You provided GRACE...

Shit got SMASHED!

You read the flow of the personal back-story... and now we're going to tie it all together.

VORTEX!

Air and Water.

Cycles... Re-cycles... re-cycl-ings...

Some thought it nuts for me to gamble on such absurdities as these... To risk it all... to go home-less... to sleep in a hammock! To camp in garage!

To venture into a tornado... to seek it's eye! To find its center.

It is an enterprise that the nay-says said could not be done.

These nay-says, are snools. And this is a snool-free zone!

I swam.

I sank.

I got Smashed!

Smash! saved me.

The corner I was in and the community that is the CORNER, saved me.

You all gave me GRACE.

And she is gracious beyond words...

And in this stream... I row... I steer... I flow...

And that illusive income-stream... through a River, flowed...

River Metals... Elementals...

And the IT Show... showed IT! And metaphors pour...

A Weaver connected to LaPoint.

A thread was drawn...

I met one of the fates... Atropos... a fiery red pheonix... fixed in Cincy...

We floated. Moisture. Warmth. Springings!

And the Weaver offered time...

And two-weeks of in-sight!

In-spired! In-forming!

And the Universe must have Her way.

The paradigm is shifting.

Grovin to a tune of Kuhn, the problem, the crisis, the revelatory reverberations of a revolution in zeitgeist...

Commitments of vendors to play in the Circus... The Road-Show... The Magical Mr.E Tour!

A truck(MONSTER) presents itself... I must Earnst it... Mark it in my mind... I must wade into that moonscape... and with an imitation, cast lines at shadows... koi-time... a slip-strip-stike! Copper in the light... torn from its atmosphere in fear to hear and see the light... exit the cave. Hear the 'why'...

Do what's right.

Do. Be. Flow. Row. Stream. Dream.

Answer the "who am I and how do I fit in my society"?

Take this theater-of-the-absurd on the road! And once you see it... You will be Un-Mazed! Amazingly so!

It is exciting!!! A silver lining in a cloud swirling in a vortex taking mist into moisture to let it rain... right as rain... and see these babblings, like a brook... turn to streams... to rivers... to seas... to ocean... re-cycles... where shit-streams from the main-stream turn to gold that flows back to the those... the others... away from the-they's... away from the nay-says... the clingers and takers...

It is liberation. It is this heart of this Nation. It is a chicken in the pot. It is self-reliance! Confidence!

It is a dream come true...

Let go.

Let go.

And in the process, all is one.

A cleansing.

A baptism.

The Ganges.

The night sky.

A shift.

Navigational Technique...

In the last post, at the very end of it, I included a conference at the UofC that is addressing "What are the ideals appropriate to our moment in human history, and how do these ideals derive from or relate to theological reflection in our time?"

'So what?' You might say... or 'Who Cares?' or 'whatever....'

And it is my opinion that this pursuit of ideals and the posing of this question through the UofC, and the way in which it is being presented, is a sign-post. A warning of things to come. The water is gonna get rough!

Now, I am no seller of doom & gloom, or some 2012 apocalyptic, eschatological end time scenario-ist, as that is not my thing. Yet, I will try to ferret out my point here, and to why the minds, great thinkers and The They's are nervous, and in order to do that, I will have to dabble with some things that may be a bit hard to follow, as some of the terms I am going to use will not be used in the standard conceptions of the meanings of these terms. The reader will have to make an effort to see beyond any knee-jerk assumptions and let go of some potentially deep seated beliefs they may hold, all just long enough to be able to see the point of it all clearly. And as the author of the next point said, "on a psychological level, it symbolizes how we must strive never to underestimate anyone, as it is a most dangerous kind of arrogance". You'll remember from my last post, we ALL have a voice, this one is mine.

First thing is to understand what direction I will approach this topic from and why any of this even matters. And to do that, one must understand what myth is.

A myth is a foundational story. Myth is a core element in many belief systems. Myth comes from mythos which simply means "word, narration, tale, and speech" and it is the antithesis of logos... or is it? Both are ways of trying to find a truth. In that sense, myth is truth. Myth is symbolic as well. Myth provides reflection. Myth is concerned with answering the unknowns and provides us all with a way to reflect on individual and collective desires, needs and fears. Myth is like a mirror in this sense, and it has changed little since ancient times. Myth was pre-writing... and is a powerful expression of human imagination. Myth transmits. And in myth, a key is offered to such questions as "Who am I?" and "How do I fit into my culture/society?" And all of this is but one piece of the puzzle, which for your own edification, can all be found in Sarah Bartlett's Mythology Bible. You see, I am not only a fish, but a parrot, too!

Now, I will attempt to take you from this conception of myth, and wrap mythos to the logos to uncover one more small aspect of this metaphorical stream in which we're splashing around in. And one of the keys, or road signs to further understanding, or in-forming, or forming with-in, was in an italicized clue above. That "psychological level" offers us an opportunity to understand quite a few things.

The first is, to take a journey to understanding the historicity of psychology. One book that has done that very well is Robert C. Bolles thematic approach to The Story of Psychology, in which he presents some very insightful bits of in-formation. If you can, get your hands on a copy. Get familiar with his Science. Get familiar with Thomas Kuhn as well. Entertain the idea that science seeks to serve a higher mission. That science seeks broad and powerful generalizations. Science seeks to explain. According to Bolles, "Science is not an abstract thing that transcends normal human activity - on the contrary, science is more than anything else a normal human activity". And science is fluid! And science is not technology. Science is also "not an objective search for truth". And somehow, psychology is "a science, an academic discipline, one of the healing professions and one of the branches of human engineering that tries to cope with social and personal problems" according to Bolles. Wrap your head around it, think critically, and dare to ask yourself what's wrong with this picture? Understand the puzzle, know the problem, see the crisis and embrace the notion that the revolution is soon to follow. Know how and why the paradigm is going to shift. Change is on our door-step.

Now, also consider contrasting Bruce Lincoln's Thesis on Method, in which he points out how language and discussions of the meta-physical are illusive. A good friend and fellow religious studies academic forwarded this pdf to me, and I encourage you to wrestle with it a bit. And depending on how well you do with that wrestling, certain things may come into focus that prior to reading it where unknown to you.

Additionally, it may help to read my piece on Anselm.

Now, all of this ties together. One way is it takes the very approach that the Div School is taking with an interdisciplinary discussion on ideals and how they relate to our point and time. Armed now with Bruce Lincoln's info, and Bolles, and Bartlett and Kuhn and Anselm... you may see that the point here is that there is a shift in the paradigm taking place that has everyone up in arms. What is odd though, is this up in arms thing is still just simmering. Moving toward crisis faster than our economics can't recover from...

You see, the paradigm is run by a bunch of crotchety-crusty-tenured-few. These few are the power-elite. They are The They's and you know what they say... and it is also comprised of those Aspiring-to's that buy the lie that they will ever be a The They!

And anyone in power, and anyone invested in gaining power, fears loosing that power and that effort. And elaborate systems are put in place to ensure that that power is never usurped. Systems of commerce and systems of governance. And like I said in the last post, "all of us are being trained to be part of a society. To be productive members of some idealized Main-Stream. To stay in-line, not cause waves and stay the course that has been predetermined for us by those The They's mentioned earlier" and to that I added the concept of letting go.

Now, the question here is, do you want to take a back-seat and just watch as this story unfolds, cling to the bottom of that stream? or do you want to take theory into reality and take hold of the mental chain's and break em! Take hold of a set of navigation techniques! Take hold of the concept that the paradigm, and The They's are possibly only myth! Vapor! Or just a part of human nature! Let go.

Perhaps one can conceive a different reality if one can shift one's perspective. As myth is also not something that can be contained. Myth is the stream. Myth is the water. Myth flows. Myth is Universal. Myth is enduring. Myth arises "out of economic problems and political and religious manipulations of the people" as Radin said. Myth is a collective unconscious as Jung said. "Myths are public dreams; a dream is a private myth" as Joseph Cambell said. Myth is the heart of the human dilemma... Myth is the source. Myth is a key. Turn it and see! Let go.

So yeah, it matters.

And please, row that boat gently down the stream, merrily, as life is but a dream.

Cheers

Charting a Course...

In any adventure, there is a considerable amount of risk that one must asses at some point.

The risk of loosing everything is always the one that most folks focus on first. But I contend, that that is the least of it, as it is in this loosing that everything is gained. Let me explain:

To set this stage, we will need to go back to the prior of the prior. To before the beginning of the beginnings of this story. Pre-'Why' as I call it. A journey back toward the root.

You know by now, that I subscribe to the notion that "Row, row, row your boat" is a mantra of mine that is a vessel for which I can carry my life lessons. You know that this vessel goes with the flow, gently down this stream, and merrily, too! You know it will row, and you know it will tow. You know it is grateful for having been towed, as well!

You know that my Smash! is key to helping me, Mr.E, to demystify the mystery. And here I will try to tie it back to how that smashing is so darn smashing!

You also know I live a dream. I live this dream in a stream. Her name is 'GRACE' and she is a '72 27' Overlander Airstream.

You know the metaphor... and you know the serendipitous-ness of my adventures to some degree... so I will fill-in a missing piece. ( Missing Piece is a children's picture book by poet Shel Silverstein. It is salient here in a way as well, as it relates to my urge to find a partner... and it ties into The Precious Present by Spencer Johnson, too. But surely not so much to his Who Moved my Cheese, though there are parts that apply. And none of this is my point here. So,) 

Back some time, I had the pleasure of acquiring Illusions: Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, by Richard Bach, back in my youth. And in that youthful reading, I was infected with a poison. And that poison has been in my blood-stream, coursing through my veins... and it nagged at me unknowingly, like that 'Why', like that 'trout' that I became...and only now, has it surfaced to in-form me and provide in-sight which in-spires me higher still.

You see, all of us are being trained to be part of a society. To be productive members of some idealized Main-Stream. To stay in-line, not cause waves and stay the course that has been predetermined for us by those The They's mentioned earlier.

In Illusions, I dis-covered completely unawares, that I was that silly little fellow that entertained the idea of letting go. And if you are unfamiliar with the story, I would highly suggest reading it.You need to get the picture of an upside-down world... like a river... in which all the inhabitants are clinging to the bottom for fear of letting go. For if they were to let go, they would surely get Smash!-ed on the rocks and possibly die!

And in the story, this silly little fellow took the chance, he actually let go, and he was Smash!-ed hard on the rocks! He was drug across the bottom, scraped and bruised! Bloodied, maimed and scared... But he eventually floated up into the current. Higher and higher... until, from the perspective of those clinging, he was a sight to behold. A 'messiah' they thought...

Now, he knew he was no such 'messiah' at all and he knew he had done nothing all that special, except to accept that letting go was what had made most sense to him. So he did it. He let go against everyone else's fears... warnings... pleadings... of what "He Should Do" by their estimation. He followed his own inner-voice. He just let go.

Now, I suppose, for the purposes of telling a story, Bach needed to paint a pretty picture. For if he was to paint an accurate picture of letting go, than no one would ever do such a thing. Ever! So he crafted his story in such a way that it glamorized it a bit. He even ended the story with a coma! The only book I know of that has ever done that! Sort of like saying, 'this story continues' or 'repeats'... It adds wonder to the mystery of it all.

Now I, Mr.E, the de-mystify-er... have come to realize that this story has played on in my mind at some subconscious level for a very long time. And it wasn't until now, today in-fact, that it has surfaced. And to me, that is a testament for the quality of writing that I aspire to. It is perhaps what I hope this entire blog-adventure will become. A story of a fellow that serves to inspire in its readers a faith that everything is right as rain.

And why I think this is so important and all consuming is, I have walked this path less traveled and along the way 'GRACE' was given to me in such a way that I feel I must share its story. It is bigger than me. It is salient to the times. It is zeitgeist! (And no, not that movie, but much, much more...) Because, you see, there are so many of us out there, each with our own voice. And times are getting harder than any of us ever thought possible. And as the challenges of life under this dynamic start to take shape, it is my hope that this story will be a guiding light on a dark and scary path we never intended to take. It is a gift. It is my vocation. My calling. (It is so creepy in fact,as that link in 'voice' above, is from my older days with Mark Smith, the God-Father of Slam-Poetry, and to which Smash! forwarded to me just yesterday and my knowing not only Mark, but Shayn as well...! And to Clifton's son Chris! Another poet to whom I turned on to Mark, that like Shayn, like I, like you... all have a voice! There is a whole book here, just on this serendipity. Creepy happenstance? NO! It is the stream streaming dreams into this Mr.E!)

And in this stream, this Mr.E Streaming... I hope you'll see the dream is more than just a dreaming. I hope you can see past the rhyming... past the toying with time thing... past the serendipitous... past the 'Why'... past the shit... and into the flow.

To the sea! To see! Do you see?! Come float with me... come float and see!

The Streaming is sure to continue... till next time, Cheers

P.S. And for anyone who doubts this, know, that River Metals is going to become my largest and most recent client! Re-Cycling in the scrap-stream of dreams to provide a flow to that illusive income-stream! May the Universe make it so.

Spring... Please SPRING...

So. The story here is far from done and nowhere near complete.

There are a million little details that need to be filled in.

But this darn Spring thing is on my mind...

You know... when I was in the city, there where these birds that'd sit right outside my window on a wire and chirp and flutter and fuss... and than the squirrels would squeal, chase each other about... and that couple you could hear a few windows away...

Ya know... SPRING!

And it is a Springin like mad!

So I zoosk'ed myself, just to see if there is a soul out there that could even possibly "get" me... and I sent out invites to some folks to get their HONEST opinion of me, for Testimonials, and to all of you that have/will, Thank you.

I am sure there is someone out there... in this stream of inter-webbing... that would think it cool to hang-out.

Hard as it is to admit... I miss the Corner, the City, and the folks... and I really need to meet some new folks 'round these here parts.

And I hope that any of 'em that sees this will explore a bit. For, to YOU, obviously, you figured-out how to find this in the stream. So, Here I am! Go to the About page. Start from the beginning. Heck, if ya made it this far, why not take a look-see and if this me, Mr.E, is even remotely interesting to you?!

Cause I know you're out there... And I know you get this... and this me. So, anyway...

SPRING it on!!!

Make a comment or somethin'... or join... or somethin'...

Cheers

Oh! and hey... help us all out here if you're so inclined:

Remember when teachers, public employees, Planned Parenthood, NPR and PBS crashed the stock market, wiped out half of our 401Ks, took trillions in TARP money, spilled oil in the Gulf of Mexico, gave themselves billions in bonuses, and paid no taxes? Yeah, me neither. COPY and REPOST

Getting back to GRACE... Part VII... Dealing... De-fining...

If you have not been reading this blog from the very beginning or you are new to this space, please go directly to the ABOUT THIS BLOG and get familiar with it. Than, If you choose to continue... do so from the very beginning so everything falls into context for you. Cause if you just scroll down into the middle of something... not familiar with what it is predicate upon... than you will have a completely warped perception of what this whole thing is. So Please Start from the beginning and by the time you get to this, you'll be ready for it's content. It is a work in progress. It is art in process. It is what it is.

Sorry y'all, so, having mentioned before that I was going to address dealing with your 'shit'... Please know that the last post was for me to get that 'thank you' out of my head - as it had been bugging me for some time - and I just needed to "get 'er done" as JZ says. 

(Yes, Johnny! I hope you're reading this shit! I got stories on stories  on your kick-fuckin-assness during all of this shit, but ain't gonna put none of it up till we talk and burn some shit, smoke some shit, and eat some good shit... so, read on!) <Opps... sorry. (I have those moments every now & then... Must be the humidity down here... or maybe it's that I miss the CORNER... anyway... [and as choppy of a segue as that was...]... let's get back on track)...> 

Now... some of you know the back-side back-story of the back story... of the previous winter... 

And... some of you know... that there was a lot of shit going on then, too.

Some of you where very sad at what you saw... and some of you couldn't quite grasp it... And still others, could have given a rats ass or quite frankly, may not have known.

And some of you know about that "Dealing with your shit rant" that I had had at that time...

And some of you have witnessed the transformations... not only one, this but others as well... 

And all of you have provided various levels of support through various means and in various ways at various times to varying degrees.

And when I was in the shit SO deep, that my shit needed serious help this time, when you could not look away... you could not dismiss... you could not ignore... you put on boots  that I didn't even know existed and trudged through it all to get me! (And that goes for some of those anonymous folks that pitched in too!)

And than through all of that shit, those of you that came to my rescue became THE SHIT! 

And that was golden! 

That was brilliant! 

That shed light onto a path which allowed me to navigate out of the shit!

And you kept those boots on and held my arm till, and so that, I wouldn't slip and fall back into it!

So yes, all this talk of shit has a purpose.

And here it is:

Dealing with your shit...

Dealing with your shit...

Dealing with your shit...

Dealing with your shit...

The idea of dealing with one's shit, is predicate upon defining 'shit'.

So let's do just that!

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, c. 1981, Houghton-Mifflin, defines 'shit' as:

shit (shĭt) v. shit or shat (shăt) or shitted, shitting, shits. -intr.

Vulgar. To defecate. -tr. Vulgar Slang. To decieve or mislead.

-n. 1. Vulgar. Excrement. 2. Vulgar. An act of defecating.

3. Yulgar Slang. Worthless matter; junk. 4. Vulgar Slang. Fool-

ish or misleading talk; nonsense. 5. Vulgar Slang. A highly ob-

jectionable person. 6. Vulgar Slang. A narcotic drug; espe-

cially, heroin. -interj. Vulgar Slang. Used to express anger or

disappointment. [Middle English shiten, to void excrement,

Old English scatin (attested only in compound bescītan, to be-

foul). See skei- in Appendix*]

And though this seems to be a fully formed definition, it is not the only definition.

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/shit defines it further: (And better, in my humble opinion).

And we haven't even considered The Oxford English Dictionary, (OED), which is the self-proclaimed "definitive record", to which, after reading The Professor and the Madman, ISBN:[0060839783 / 0-06-083978-3] adds a whole other level of 'shit' we are not ready to add to this process of defining 'shit'.

And we could go further still with a Google/Wiki wonderland of more 'shit' to add to this 'shit', which like the OED 'shit' turns it into 'shit'.

And all of it is 'Bullshit'. 

And that 'shit' has been attempted by Harry G. Frankfurt in his On Bullshit, Princeton, 2005, ISBN:0-691-12294-6, which I highly recommend, even though it too, adds to the pile.

So, let's take a short-cut here, and define it as:

'To utter in vulgar slang, and in a foolish or exagerated fashion, something un-wrought, that is strong, authoritative, intense, obscure, some-what deceptive perhaps and full of candor'.

How's that?

Candor?!

Right. That's a whole nother can of worms... take that out...

No, put it back in... [Ahhh......! Never mind.]

It lacks something, though... Some inadvertancy... Some aspect of vapor... Some punch!

Maybe, we can approach it from the literal to the figurative? How's that?

On the literal, most don't even want to address it.

That's why we have such elaborate systems with which to deal with shit, and keep it out of sight-out of mind... 

And maybe that works if you live in a modern society, in a brick & mortar structure so fully accomodated...

But if your not, like say, in an Airstream, than things get a bit different.

There are many considerations here, too, as to how you deal. And all of "how well you'll deal" is predicate upon whether having had delt before or not. Like say, in a camping scenario. But that has variables as well. 

Again, predicate upon degrees of experience. And so very few in a 'Modern' society, have. Which is exactly why this is such a vulgar and uncouth topic in the first place... right?

Wrong!

If you don't know how to deal with your shit on a literal level, with first-hand experiences, than you will be unequiped to even begin exploreing the figurative.

Here's why:

Figuratively speaking, your figurative shit is MUCH less couth to deal with.

And I mean that literally!

We, as a 'Modern' society'd peoples, all hide our shit. We hide birth. We hide death. We hide illness. We hide uglyness, etc.. You get the idea, we hide our shit and don't want to deal with it AT ALL!

That's why we have doctors/hospitals and mortitians/funeral homes and sanitation/plumbing systems, and mountains of pills and out of control bills, as we medicate our selves to death, or try to surround our selves with shit that makes us feel better about our 'shit', or pay for the shit we've already got, until that shit turns to shit, the shit pills stop doing their shit job, or the plumbing blows, or ya get sick or yur gonna die.

Than your into the shit over your head and still can't deal with it!

What to do?

What to do...

So, doesn't it make sense to deal with it long before it becomes an issue? I mean, wouldn't it be nice if any of that shit we just looked at, only required a pair of boots to pull-on and know that our footing is solid, so as we can wade through that shit... and also, so we're not covered in it? 

But maybe not. Maybe suckin shit, eating shit, taking shit, getting shit, giving shit and all the variations of shit is exactlly what we need in order to understand it.

And 'it' is a whole different ball of wax! 'It' is shit and it is not-shit. No shit! It is everything and no thing, but it is not nothing, and if you get that, than you've delt with your shit and are laughing like a fool right now!

Because YOU know that none of this shit matters.

What matters is that you give a shit.

And agian, to those that did, thank you.

:) Cheers

P.S. (See, I told y'all, shit happens...)

P.P.S. And more is sure to follow... I shit you not...
P.P.P.S. If for some unfortunate reason, you found this to be offensive, than please do read on. As you may not have yet figured out that this approach is by design intended to fluster traditional thinking patterns. And, perhaps, by continuing on with this journey, you too, will be better equipped to deal with what-ever life throws your way. And IF, after you have given it a fair-shot, and still can't stomach the content or its delivery, than by all means, do move on as I clearly stated in the "About this" blog page, that it is what it is, and I make no apologies. For this is my life, expressed as best I can, to inspire others to follow what ever calling it is that they feel they may have or that might present itself. Perhaps GRACE is a vehicle in which to do just that. And at least for me, it is. And this does not mean that I am in some "Into the Wild" movie script either. And no, I have not lost my mind. And yes, this is but one of many alternatives to finding ways of dealing with the challenges of life, that again, seeks to inspire positive change into a social construct that has seemingly lost its fucking mind. Think of it as a vent that at least for me, balances the extremes between apathy or extremism, as I believe both will end superfluously. Travel well - Row YOUR boat - Tow another if & when they NEED it - Do it gently and with great joy - As life is but a dream. That is the theme of this Stream, it is the mythos of this dream, and I seek to do it with GRACE. Cheers