Conversations with Dhamma

CLEAVE

2012-01-04T09:58:00.002-07:00

Running down the years
away, far far from my fears
an echo follows after, like laughter
I can not stand to fix the splintered rafter

Taunted, tempted ... lured, allured
by the next need, hollow inside, cured
of all pain, by sweet avoidance
the bliss and joy of escaping, the ever-dance

Unraveled by one simple question
that points out my own lies, a revelation
like a mirror I had turned to the world
now it is faced squarely on my heart, unfurled

At first the pain is intolerable
it tears the fabric of my soul, friable
and frayed, I will surrender to the fire
the change comes from the roots, the mire

It is a messy transformation, violent, uncaring
a feral force of nature, this moral gravity's daring
So I fall away, no ego left to coddle
cursed and blessed to start again, learning to toddle

No one to blame but simple choice
a gift that I have, my path, my voice
like a vote to the universe, or a bet
I choose life, I choose change and sweat

Love's Labor

2011-11-01T12:26:00.003-06:00

Don't get caught sleeping
when the chips are down
when the world is laughing
tossed among clasts, cutting
forgotten as junk toys

Remember to relax, unwind
nimble wit and cunning spit
honorable reluctance, caution
my life will teach, tease & tickle
I only need to pay attention

We are all right, for the wrong reasons
arrogant, blind to the on-coming traffic
blissfully wandering an open road
rolling on as a river meanders
constantly fighting topography

But just like gravity, the terrestrial pull
somehow reality can hurt, leave an impression
where the truth was captured
the inevitable tide, a wash of tears
comes from within, a deep well

In the end we will all answer
questioned by our own life
call it karma or moral gravity
I will not fight, lying prone
these gods within us all, this love.

AWARE

2011-10-07T09:57:00.002-06:00

I feel the wind, tickling
at my hair, playing with skin
We slide down hill, following
and flopping, dead to the touch

These muses cause caution
alarm and siren, I am haunted
tossed about in turbulent waters
vulnerable to the chaos, nature

This cannot be the only solution
we dissolve, bleed together, mixed
like rain & silt make mud, clay
we can mold, make & change our world

It's a conservation of energy
a re-arrangement of matter
that brings us this power
a gift of grace, a fervent race

I will no longer tease the truth
no longer read between the lines
this reality is real enough
I am content to be sentient.

Free Fall Folly

2011-09-06T16:02:00.002-06:00

Vapor and light, playing coy
a dance among the ether, atmosphere
elemental, basic and innocent
I hear the laughter, followed by hum

These moments among life, existence
hold a sacred space, only I weep
to be given such power, to step aside
grounded within time, free to wander

Maybe now the ennui can be sated
a gift of memory, a trick of light
my illusions are clear now, stark
among my dreams, reality surfaces

And there, scattered across the ruins
are the milestones, my life's path
left bare as bone, white with death
only my past, the heart beats faster

Un-distracted, a return to childhood
where is the innocence, turned to ignorance
a sure way to wash away the stain
these days and weeks, sullen with dream

The rhythm quickens, my life thickens
here among the clutter, my memory
cuts like a rope, a fine line
something to grasp before letting go.

Only You

2011-05-17T12:17:00.002-06:00

It begins as soft music, an air
playing with my heart, my soul is afire
It continues within reality, the horizon
where flesh and blood meet the ethereal
this love will not subside, decline
only our fates tell the story, the tale

Your misery is my torment and hell
linked to your need, I anticipate
trying to precipitate, a calm among passion
a safe space to tell you how much
my love for you will do, no limits, no bounds
across time, the hero of your soul.

Lifted up, I kiss your pain away
devoted to creating our solace, our heaven
Elevated, this life will test our resolve
toying with emotions, trials of the heart
I will not surrender, I choose you
I am captured, a willing servant

Collecting water from dew drops, I weep
life is cruel, untamed, I bleed with love
exposed, naked and committed I come to you
giving all of myself, leaving none behind
rain cools your skin, supple to the touch
my goddess en-fleshed, embodied with pride

My love, my life ... this I promise you
to continue to choose you, to love and adore only you.

Catalyst

2010-12-06T16:11:00.002-07:00

it's this low hum, speaking of energy
drawing power and control, violent reaction
lifting us up, higher, gaining elevation
free to fly, and free to fall, at will

the same power lives within me, my core
a slow burning, sustained by breath
my life will forever fall away from me,
I only make sure, not to chase after

and when it works, the well-oiled machine
we all rejoice,taken for granted, that we
as a people could not but succeed...
We the people, free from stain

But reality never fits within such
simplistic boundaries, spilling out
the mess is unraveled, one thought,
one opinion at a time, what a crime

I will not allow this dream to continue
turned into a nightmare, horror
I can only tempt, suggest the path forward
by rejecting my self, my own urge to fix

the pulsing mob, ignorant and blind
wandering about, stumbling, dumb
we are lead by hunger, to eat
we are driven by craving, to want

like the tide, the ebb and flow
we are caught as drift wood
tossed up and down, high and low
a cycle, a movement, but no progress

choices become like channels
in a maze, washed down stream,
we end up where out choices take us,
allowed to settle, to deposit

And thus, we can move mountains,
one pebble at a time, each rain drop
a thought, the collision, the wash

surrendered to gravity, we watch
the scene play out...
Choices made. Reactions follow.

Still-Flowing Matter

2010-12-06T14:53:00.002-07:00

I have traveled, wound down
among the roads and by-ways, twisted slick
along the streams and dreams of us all.

I've seen quiet meadows in the
morning sun, where no soul dwelt.
I've bustled, elbow to elbow with
hurried passengers, waiting for take-off.

And whether among the crowds or
lost in the wilderness, I am there
the ever constant, myself, my mind
held within my memories
cradled with love, with careful attention.

Because how else can we justify
this emotional push, this felt thought
then to keep a record, a file
locked up within my moody synapses.

For if anything is true, it is your life
your experiences, your mistakes, each breath.
No other can hold your space, your time,
we will not be ousted from this reality.

And so I awake, somewhere between
touch-down and lift-off, winding through
the canyons and rolling topography,
hidden amongst the clutter of existence.

Each town, a new feel, the intangible.
Each truck stop, transient as the last,
always looking ahead, for direction.

Maps may face North, but I am not
bound by borders, only my inner-compass.

So I continue to move, ever dynamically altered
exploring the world one journey at a time,
letting the river push me along...
the bedrock of my life, sometimes eroding,
but mostly a constant saltation and accumulation
a deposition of will, I am anything but still.

Clay

2010-12-06T13:00:00.002-07:00

We begin as young chics
vulnerable, quivering... alive
how odd this life can be
how strange, we are cast among the stars

We search, usually in vane,
for some semblance of normalcy
some kind of happiness, among the ennui
with flashy, iconic billboards to set the standard

But how can we be measured, against such perfection
like a child once burned, fear of rejection
so the fear controls progress, the hurried tempest
caught up in the flow, the wild fire

If we are ever to learn from mistakes
you must first fail, miss the mark
but more importantly, you must detach
to gain perspective, some breathing room

thus perched above your tragic past
one can observe a life, un-judged
taken in one breath at a time
surrendered to the reality, the crime

We end as junked cars
left among past ideas, obsolete
passed by, abandoned to the natural decay
unworthy of attention, dissolved into clay

For Craig

2010-12-06T12:44:00.002-07:00

Within the hearts that remain
are mere shells, once full of colorful life
still re-visitable within surviving tomes
one can recapture a piece of the man

his wisdom was more than profound
his insight for the best might
suffice some cursory advice
but would never say what is right

Where only dull existence dwells
for all others, his world was
painted quite differently
no tutorial, no lecture, just this

With fire and liquid verbose
the imagery was inescapable
yet somehow still un-comprehensible
how point A met point B

yet the listener was lifted, not by
their own volition, towards the
craft and mastery of words
to a place, a space, unmistakably new

(meditation at badlands, Gas Hills, WY)

2010-12-06T12:23:00.002-07:00

it's the movement of the river
the slow bend, the white water
its seasonal ebb and flow
that creates, propagates, the story

And like all things, time is the master
ruler of us all, experienced in seconds
these moments stand still
with each breath and pulse

to be able to pause, hold fast
to observe without conviction, restriction
and somehow come out the other side
washed anew, turned a different hue

at best, this world is torn about
a restless thunder, ravenous hunger
blinded by this greed, we crave
trapped within time, our petty needs

the blessed few, cursed with wisdom
will only be able to watch
the sanguined horrors, the end
unable to prevent, what was heaven sent

New Nuclear: the clean, clear, and best choice

2010-07-27T08:33:00.008-06:00

The US invented and designed the very first nuclear reactors. This was called the Manhattan Project, and though it may have been first used as a weapon I believe that the discovery of nuclear power can still redeem itself. It is a discovery akin to when man first found fire. Nuclear fire is orders of magnitude greater (energy) than chemical fire (carbon energy) and comes in a much smaller package. Nuclear power is the only energy source that can be fully contained and accounted for; coal fired power plants can never account for or capture all of the CO2 that is released into the atmosphere (not to mention the mercury, natural uranium, and a slew of other heavy metals that coal power plants freely emit to the air). Since the first reactor design, the nuclear industry has evolved by leaps and bounds, learning from past mistakes and designing newer and better safety features and efficiency, making nuclear power the most efficient and long-lasting power source.

Most of the 104 US nuclear reactors are out-dated in comparison to the newest nuclear reactor designs. They can only burn 10% of the uranium fuel before they need re-fueling. New fast-breeder reactors are just the opposite, they burn up to 95% of the fuel, leaving a very small amount of waste. And the uranium not burned in the current 104 reactors can be re-cycled and reprocessed so that the remaining uranium can become fuel again. There is no energy system like this in the world, where a resource can be mined once and burned for energy more than once in a reactor that contains all the waste. It is an energy source completely separate from the carbon-cycle, or in other words uranium and other radio-nuclides exist whether or not life exists. Coal, crude oil, and natural gas all originally came from some life form that died and was deposited geologically. Uranium is not dependent on any life cycle, and thus completely separate from the carbon cycle. It is clean, green, and carbon-free, you do the math.

The above reactor design is the Advanced Boiling Water Reactor (ABWR or AP1000) and is a gen III+ reactor design. Westinghouse is currently permitting this design with the NRC so that it can be an approved reactor design for new reactors here in the US. This is a very long and tedious process, but for good reason. It is the NRC's job to ensure the public health and safety, so new reactor designs get much scrutiny. I wonder why BP isn't under the same scrutiny, or all of the coal mines that kill thousands of lives every year, but don't get me started!

People like Bill Gates and Warren Buffett can see the signs. Mr. Gates has invested millions of dollars into new fast-breeder reactor design and testing. This is a vital step in the evolution of nuclear power. The images below are some of the best fast-breeder reactor designs. These are not yet ready for use as commercial reactors, if they are built as a proto-type they are still being tested and improved to meet the rigorous criteria that the NRC requires. These things take time, but there and many ways to approach a problem.

Others have tried to solve the problem in a different way; smaller reactors with less moving parts and a more stable, longer-burning reaction, etc. The Hyperion reactor is small, safe, and provides power for 7-10 years without needing to be re-fueled. And after that 7-10 years the waste that you have fits within a 5 gallon bucket (and 90% of that waste can be re-cycled as fuel again). These reactors (design shown below) cost $25 million and provide power for about 10,000 households. That breaks down to about $20 - $30 per month for your electric bill (that's cheaper than my bill).

The final word is electric cars. If that is the way of the future we must ask ourselves where are we getting the electrical power to power electric cars, trucks, trains, etc.? If it comes from coal fired power plants then we are still driving a carbon-fired car. But on the other hand, if the electric car is getting its power from nuclear, then that car is truly carbon-free.

Red, White, and Blind

2010-07-15T10:32:00.003-06:00

Chaos among control, passion
the ever-present equalizer, the wild
no plan to fix the problem
only muck-raking, a distant thunder

Different perspectives provide
scope and range, overwhelming tide
cast around like drift wood
left to float among the rocks

And how can we heal, the disconnect
the void grows deeper, more profound
these pillars will not hold, the facade
sullied by truth, half told

Rational and prudent do not describe
like ants, we march to the drum
this cruel dream will not awake
forever trapped, the unholy carnival

Forged by hot air, junk parts
like flotsam, compiled in a pile
they will not see, with pitted eyes
the advent and development of their demise

the ruins

2010-07-13T15:42:00.003-06:00

rare is true understanding
among friends with toothy smiles
like a used car salesman,
as personal as a game show

why we ever search for connection
or a modicum of verification
outside our own mind
is a mystery, an exercise in stupidity

when did the world, full of change
brimming with impermanence, ever earn our trust
jaded, thought I may be,
I will not build my house on sand

Given the choice, to rely on others
or to take responsibility for life
I can only hope for a noble calling,
hope that faith will stay silent

Only through self-help, true mindfulness
I am close to rapture, a capture
this attempt to control, to understand
will suffice for now, among my ego's ruins

Two

2010-07-09T08:13:00.002-06:00

Two, opposite each other
yet joined by high contrast
set to display in 8 bit
the only thing that's legit

Strike a pose, the lime light
beat and thump, we jump to romp
careless, we plan the approach
the descent, into oblivion with ease

Taking care to lose all control
with whole abandon we love
to give completely, with no conditions
lost to the other, unknown brother

And the bridges built will last
longer than brick and mortar
what is made in flesh and spirit
lives its own secret life

Our actions, like ripples on a pond
able to look past the still water
to see the effect, propagate, replicate
as our histories repeat again anew

As if our past were on display
the museum of our life
full with placards and instructional videos
I would re-member myself
separate and together as one.

"Around us fear, descending
Darkness of fear above
And in my heart how deep unending
Ache of love!" - James Joyce

Solace

2010-07-06T09:57:00.002-06:00

the lost, forbidden fire
hushed and hollow, secret and dire
at journey's end, a continuum
a re-cycling of events, places

like a lover's lust, I search
for elusive treasure, furtive gold
not of this world, un-attached
a distance that can not be traveled

only by courage, a brave soul
abandoned to the abyss, the dark
lit from within, a glowing heart
the fire gives way to warmth

this sacred pilgrimage, this quest
is demanded for all to perform
it is life, to hunt for death
to contrast the dark with the light

no up without down
no inner without an outer
a journey made, without a single step
this life, lived within a single breath

Past, Parallels, and Power

2010-03-16T15:20:00.002-06:00

the parallels of my life
mock me, as if to say, Look!
the answers are not so far away
with diligence and intelligence
maybe this can all be understood

intersections, like past events that
are weaved together, mapped
upon your soul, within your mind
a city is built, composed of
the refuse and remainders of your life

so I buckle up to take a
drive down Memories Ln.
trying to mind my own
mental traffic amongst the
street corners and alleys of my past

the journey is bitter-sweet
and with each poignant intersection
comes the memory, a re-living of events
more real than reality, because
it has had time to sink in

revelations, like the sun rise
glorious, naked, and reborn
trial by fire, made stronger
like steel, yet free and flowing
as a bird in the sky

I can not re-live them,
my parallels and pasts
but I can learn, I can accept
I can surrender to the river's flow
within us all, we have the power to
just let go...

Day Dreaming

2010-02-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

time is relief from panic
an illusion, crafted in ignorance
a drug administered to the brain
allowing us the appearance of permanence

rudely awakened, like a sleep-walker
there is no cure for reality
only the slow, medicated drip of time
a cruel joke for us terminally ill

so it becomes, the intention and purpose
honest appeal will only confuse
no stark relief can illustrate raw thought
what you do with the time given

each moment, each breath & pulse
more meaningful than the last, more urgent
aware, sentient, & wholly present to the day
I will not let a moment slip by un-noticed

where mystery & magic once stood
now only mundane reality to past the time
childhood fantasy replaced with mindful truth
scientific method justifies the death of innocence

for innocence is ignorance in disguise
and ignorance, though related to bliss
will not provide accountability of purpose
only fervent devotion to a mindful path
to trick time into day-dreaming

Original Sin

2009-10-22T11:23:00.002-06:00

the ghostly images stain
my memory with thoughts
foreign to my mind
they will not be washed away
indelible and poignant to me

the need is driven into the scene
by events that can not tolerate
the lack and stark clarity of loss
hollow of truth, brimmed with slag

hope becomes the key to survival
taking insanity caused by
fear and agony, and making a
haven for rest, among the clutter

here, within the space provided
my thoughts can be surrendered
let loose to explore on their own

forgotten and empty now
the scene is full of non-doing
a halting, a stand-still of will

so the ghosts fade, washed away
like sand melting into the tide
still there but unrecognizable
the change is sourced within
my original sin

Yoke

2009-09-24T10:02:00.002-06:00

the admission comes from within
a place still and silent
no lies to cloud the truth
only an uncanny sense of honesty

no more facade to adorn
no longer driven to crave
held to account for it all
no easy back door exit

and how could it be otherwise
this life is no different than past
the same rules apply still
yet still I am struck by it

the stark revelation becomes all
encompassing all options to turn
trapped by self derived ideology
I only wait to surrender

these hands will never fail
to unknowingly create my hell
only myself to blame, to hate
with blame focused squarely
upon my shoulders

Dhammapada v. 153-154 "Udana Vatthu"

2009-08-31T14:27:00.002-06:00

"How many lives, how many rounds of rebirth
have I experienced
without finding the builder of this house?
Now I see you, O builder,
all of your rafters are broken, your ridgepole is
shattered.
Never again need you build a house for me,
my mind has gone beyond the transitory, the
conditioned,
and has achieved the extinction of craving."

Builder = Craving
House = Body (five aggregates)
Rafters = Defilements
Ridgepole = Ignorance

"How many lives, how many rounds of rebirth
have I experienced
without finding the craving of this body?
Now I see you, O craving,
all of your defilements are broken, your ignorance is
shattered.
Never again need you build a body for me,
my mind has gone beyond the transitory, the
conditioned,
and has achieved the extinction of craving."

seminal

2009-08-17T13:10:00.002-06:00

the face lingers through
the page's fabric and time
forever left to peer out
as though to ask us forgiveness

but I can not forgive, I hurt
still tied to the moment, the thing
stubborn and immovable, like stone
unable to release the anger, self-afflicted

cool, pristine mirror, reflects
against this back drop, the play
complicates the scene, the frame
laid out to be examined, with criticism

the non-doing is the constant task
so the everything dissolves under
an ever-present knowing until
the truth is all that is left

the hands will always work,
unknown, unwound, they create
as my will allows, they form and shape
grasping and yielding, ever-doing to make

tread smooth, move lightly
your pulse will ever tap out your time
your life, in rhythm with your heart
surrendered, your thoughts will survive

The Call

2009-05-05T10:39:00.002-06:00

Only fate will answer
the call to fight, to change
but normalcy is ever constant
lulled by sweet music, to sleep

Fair and faint, I call out crying
for anyone who will listen
But even those that can hear
they can not understand, my call

How can my meanings, taken shape
be understood, by different minds
the responsibility is mine alone
I answer to my own cause and effect

Still, I am tempted to crave
and the craving leads to my consumption
like ripples in ponds, my suffering
is a propagation of my own volition

So simple a call, to stop and listen
seems evermore elusive, to weary hearts
so universal the request, for peace, for wisdom
lost within the web of reality and need.

Open Range

2009-02-02T13:17:00.002-07:00

I hear the hollow howl of wind
an empty canvas of land and snow
I feel the chill and dry air
weathering the harsh winter's edge

something whispered, a hush of sound
the earth lays silent and still
clean lines of sky versus ground
the contrast is more than profound

I touch down within this scene
my attention upon a mystic haze
insight into what has matter
taking the time to solve the maze

I can no longer see the ledge
there is no end, no bounding terrain
left to our own devices and vices
ignorant of any sense of eternity

the irony has a sting to it
bitter, yet sweet to the touch
vacant eyes watch the landscape
as we graze the pastures and fields

obscured by the veil of reality
this world will only suffer more
until fear can no longer reign
until freedom of mind is obtained

Study Notes

2008-12-16T14:04:00.003-07:00

History unfolds within events
moments in which time passes
like a lazy stream's meanderings
cutting a path in the substrate of reality

these events are sacred, profound
forever bound to their gravity
like an old friend's surprise visit
ever haunted by your association

and so it becomes your story
or at least your memory of
twisted within emotions and perceptions
our filters truly sell our own tale

the freedom may be disorienting
the ability to create and shape
becomes the final enigma or joke
like fools left to play with the world

but don't discard what was said
even murderers and thieves, the victors
can speak like God's prophets, silver tongued
to spin the fabric of history

and if history is to be repeated
then let us repeat the best parts
and if my story is ever to be heeded
then let me learn from what has preceded

tea by the fire

2008-12-08T13:12:00.002-07:00

the night closes early
upon the land so close
to winter's gate

in response, the sparkle
and glow of every light
that twinkles bright
upon house and tree alike

a humble peace traces itself
across each face of
every holiday shopper

frozen streets greet the
traveler with ice and crystal
a warning to slow the pace

traditions take form in
church marquees and
wandering carolers

reminding us all of our
own christmas' past
of our haunted memories

but the cold has more allies
than the sparkle and glow
the wind and the ice and snow

so wrap yourself with
another blanket
and another warm thought

You and Yourself

2008-11-11T09:41:00.002-07:00

Where do you start? to recover
to seek the hidden, and lost pieces
Carelessly I walked this earth
What could I expect of this life?

Continuing, as if nothing happened
my first mistake was not my last
only further pain, a slow drip
pleasure to burn, Eden to yearn

Hunted by reality, chased down
laughing insanely at nothing at all
the punchline is my memories
the mis-shapen path, the story

so you reach the bottom, only
to find more caverns and sewers below
in damp chambers lost to human memory
the shock of your truth, unveiled

past-life, past the safe, warm
and comfortable results of conformity
these monsters grumble and quake
restless and tormented, hate turns to anger

And so you defend, the brave fool-hearted
this was never meant for life, for breath
but time will tell, revealed unabashed
set free, by the truth, intolerable

true courage, to face the facts
strength in passive acceptance
bare and naked, reborn to reality
these lessons do not empathize

but the resulting jail break
leaves you crippled and comatose
the angry bitter inmates of your past
do not leave so quietly, the riot

recovery is slow, like first steps relearned
slack jaw and drool, the joke is you
vanity is as alien as the lies
now roaming the wastes, the fallout

if only you had seen this doom
foreshadowed by every action,
every word ever spoken, I was blind
it truly matters not what you do

in the end it is the intent that matters
the change must come from within
my cosmetic flaws make no difference
no love, no hate, just you and yourself

Reflection

2008-10-21T15:45:00.002-06:00

I find my words and their meaning
amidst the awkward spaces between
my thoughts and their actions.

Taken out of the ether, translated
by an ancient cypher within my soul.

Divine power, human ability, and
reality collide into one. Dictation
and script, give us the map
to our own hearts.

Placing the meaning of experience into
a revisitable from. A vessel for
further self-examination.

And within the flow of the syllables
another peace may be found, as the
sublime and profound take shape and
surface among the notions of truth.

But once dictated, and humbly said, its
potency and punch is unravelled, undone.
For to convey the experience and personal
touch through words is unlikely at best
and impossible for the rest.

For each phrase, each passion, once
incarnated by ink and pulp, is but a
reflection and projection of the reader's
own mind, and own true self.

End Game

2008-10-17T10:07:00.002-06:00

a solemn wind now blows
where yesterday once rose
the tarnished bramble and leaves
flutter falsely, and thusly deceives

like dead moths, from dust to dust
my corpse will lay silent, it must
and years will blow hollow and chill
among my deeds, the leaves lay still

so i take a stroll, in hopes to unroll
this tired, battered, weary old soul
with a smile and step for nearly a mile
only lost to my own thoughts, beguile

wandering hence under fading moon
on the night's crisp air, i swoon
alone, as always my thoughts leave me
to stalk their meaning, i hunt for sanity

and with the ground now brown and dead
a reminder of coming attractions, ahead
the greatest challenge, a morbid race
to live with such passion, trapped in death's embrace

the beginning

2008-10-08T14:45:00.002-06:00

nothing prepares you, naive
clumsy to the touch, preconceive
so much yet to say, the future
unfolds within events, no closure

the ceiling, my sky, my world
endless seem the possibilities, unfurled
my heart will speak tender, to teach
fashioning a world, put in reach

challenges and triumphs, heaven resounds
what is yet to be, blind power and crowns
that flounder and shatter, upon crowded street
a new dawn, the day that love will defeat

but first is the birth, a beginning
miracle of miracles, leaves me grinning
to think that the world can change, alter
amidst the cruel and caddy, i falter

so let there be peace, a still stream
like the release of thunder, sweet dream
home among the new and old, i sigh within
stepping forward with heart aglow i begin

Questions

2008-09-24T15:48:00.002-06:00

What angers you most? words or action?
or does thought hold the key?

What interests you most? concepts or the product?
or it is the intention that sets us free?

Answer at you own risk, your pride.
I will not interfere, stand aside.

But the most base begs to be improved
it will not go so easily, un-moved.

How do you explain, that which is out of your control?
a personal experience, incarnate within soul.

How can we envision together, the thing?
Mists and veils hide the truth, un-knowing.

Most fundamental, this time within time
holds my mind, my discoveries, cataloged sublime.

Effecting all else I touch, I cry distraught
blind with rage, because first it was thought.

Where can we escape this relentless tide?, my soul at bay
pushing the problems away, just to be back another day.

Where will we begin? letting go of sin
I aim skyward, my only goal is within.

The years will pass, hollow with sound
so I protect the diamond, stand my ground

And with trumpets and brass, glory shine
the day I compass my fears, adamantine.

Hijo

2008-09-16T16:47:00.002-06:00

it is ever last as the tide
this love that tickles my heart
there is no choice, only the gift

freely given, I smile within
as we both reach for the other
fate has already marked us

but it's the fear of the unknown
like butterflies in my stomach
that makes my mind race, a chase

so I concentrate, to alleviate
trying to resolve the problem
I end up stumbling around, blind

like a hand trying to feel itself
my fingers fail to grasp my flaws
only the reflection of love to see

we will carry one another
like roots and earth, clung
to each other, both in need

creating more, where less once was
our love will multiply and grow
a miracle for sure, our son we will know

Jade Heart

2008-09-15T14:22:00.002-06:00

outlined by the silhouette
of desires left to ponder, to wander
undirected, my first sin
these days are less than normal

more than ordinary, a possession
lost obsession, the guilt cuts me

what is the point? what motive?
empty pages, filled with words
leaving no stone unturned

and all you find, when digging
for stones, is more stones,
surrounded by worms, decay

there was light once, a hope
still here, mis-shapen into hate

don't worry, it'll be just fine
these scars know the way
back to the event, the initial

furtive motions, late night ponderings
hope takes form, and then flight
as the past is healed, re-membered

and within this sense of duty,
my heart, heavy with emotion
carries me forward, immortal with love

Life to Death

2008-09-11T14:58:00.002-06:00

the process starts with
the ability to love, to care

followed by an emotional push
the inevitable takes place
the broad smile on my face

held, I take in the movement
the slow force of laughter
echoing among the comfort
of friends and conversation

it ends like a car horn
abruptly shaken from bliss
adrenaline flowing, causing action
physical urge to move

then the legs begin to run,
death chases the sanity away
blind fear overwhelming
the senses

if only the truth didn't hurt
if on my death bed, gold and red
I will demand the story
be told, unfold

the process ends with
the inability to move, to breathe

Here pishy pishy...

2008-09-11T14:51:00.002-06:00

I've spent too much time
keeping the reality of my life
locked away and forgotten
emotions dammed up, held at bay

And all it takes is a photograph
evidence of suspicion, a pit
in my core..., and then the kicker
that bitch!, was cheating on me
way before last thanksgiving

After I moved from Nevada,
started working in Riverton,
her legs were spread for the cartoonist
the slag of her dreams, putrescence

No wonder there was want of divorce
at least I could have skipped out
I could have saved money and gone
to NYC my fucking self

And the pain now comes from
the fact that I was so blind
that I didn't see, so blatant
it makes me scream, and then chuckle

they deserve each other,
spineless the both of them
they can flop about the bed
with each other, limp like fish

Placation Vacation

2008-08-26T16:07:00.002-06:00

it's the loss of control
the unraveling of it all
that tempts to draw tears
from my trembling heart, my fears

numb the senses, and trick
the meaning, twisted and sick
free from the torment of reality
stuck between the void and calamity

and time, drawn away like the tide
leaves a constant itch, a slippery slide
tickled and laughing, this experience
is softly fading, falling ever hence

no sweet consent or blushing lament
will savor this taste, pleasure bent
bleary eyes stare soul-less serene
detachment, a garment, fluffy and clean

clad in boredom of peace eternally
to suffer the triumph of self-mastery
seems folly at best, certainly you jest
to ever know salvation, to put it all to rest

closer to heaven, closest to hell
the judgment and bias is easiest to sell
so with distraction and blind interaction
we are all tricked into false satisfaction

tipping point

2008-08-13T11:47:00.002-06:00

You can go mad, padded walls
and softly spoken questions
You could crack, rupture and melt
all for reason, for sensible thought

nature doesn't work in the parameters
that you fashion. Vain corruption
and greed rule the decisions made
I cry in terror, watching with wide eyes

the whole mob tears away the padded
walls, the cage torn down
riot and tumult, the ravenous
pack create genocide within Eden

Beauty is burned, order decays
how dare we question nature's
purification and cleansing?
mother knows best, death but no rest

and then it happens, like the tide
leaving the rocks bear, we are
suspended, left behind by
the indifference of chance and chaos

we fail to recognize our place
our point of purpose among the vast cosmos
like a single flame, amidst a storm
so close to extinction, extinguished, blown out.

Lessons Perverse

2008-08-12T10:09:00.004-06:00

the insanity of the night
was only more magnified by
the realization that pearls
can come from swine, from shit

the logical doesn't apply, incompatible
there is no easy answer, no explanation
but the purpose can be lost
so hold fast, don't slip the grip

attention, awareness of detail and shape
the nuances are the shades of color
and it is in between the regular that
the extra ordinary rests, unveiled

the transformation is power and clout
the nerve to change what god designed
free will's consequence, double-edged gift
i transcend the world, become wholly novel

strange aura, alien and profound
the black and white becomes dazzling light
no more simple definitions of identity
i create, i shape the mood, the atmosphere

the calamity of the sight
was only more grotesque and odd
due to promises made, covenants broken
sourced from within, truth spawned from sin

destined failure

2008-08-06T14:09:00.002-06:00

it starts, like a lump all knotted
and anger is swallowed, to keep peace
but it always surfaces, always erupts
numb below my neck, dumb above the neck

like laughter, cackles echoing down halls
corridors where i once sought solace
the comforts of escape, running from pain
like snapshots i see, i remember the scene

and i told my self, convinced that it
was ok, that the guilt was ok
but what am i at the end of it all
if not the reality of my life, the truth

but sometimes, i find release from tension
the tightness is untied for a moment
how can this be treatment, my wounds
are continued, the infection is self-administered

mocking my malcontent with order
so i institute change, chaos and fire
fighting for control, the story told
many times undone, like gravity, like destiny

Choices

2008-07-24T08:48:00.002-06:00

I am overwhelmed, by choices
held up, by the idiosyncrasies
myriad and complex, choices of life

carefully we choose, uneducated
guesses about situations yet
to come, dangerous and rash

and so we become complacent,
happy to stand by our decisions
even when the evidence after
the fact point to differing results.

I can no longer deny the unknowable
terrified by the implications
of choices that haven't come to fruit

these thoughts haunt my shadow
tied up in the web of choice
and here is where we live

between the grand and small
between earth and sky, both
extremes offer no relief
for the choices at hand.

existential epitaph

2008-07-22T09:55:00.002-06:00

the throb is the only sign
of yesterday, the only relic
but memory loses footing
and so the image fades

still, among the clutter and
trash, i find a piece
evidence of the truth, left
by past events, treasures among ruins

and what is left behind, by
those who came before gives
us identity, if not by contrast
of the nature of existence

the simple truth, is the fall
the decline of order, within
the entropic cycle the
whole world rots and molds

beauty truly, can only be as
deep as skin, fragile to
the touch, the frail hand
reaching out to point the way

Flow

2008-07-18T15:10:00.002-06:00

rimrocked among the ruins of
decent ideas gone awry

due to the lack of proper
initiation and revelation

muddied, stained hands
speak of work not done

and so a depression, a slackening
helps to lift the mood

hold, until an interlude, a tune
unthreads the fabric, the pattern

and with eyes transfixed
hope becomes tangible, touchable

able to pierce my pride
i go nowhere to no end

only vigilant, only ever aware
that among the tide, there is a flow

Opus

2008-07-16T16:47:00.002-06:00

a circle surrounds the precious
encapsulating the familiar and
holding the impression of emotions
long lost, but remembered after all

comfortable and secure within
the company of promises and need
only the quiet longing remains
to tell of torrential passion

the constant drawing of breath
like waves rising from the sea
eases my soul, and my heart
is soothed with slow torment

hiding, i find the reasons left
for chasing all of the pain,
my reality, trying to meld with
the dream of life, lived free

make of my story, a wholesome
song and movement, always remembering
and retelling the joys and dreams
that shine, ever guiding our way

Samsara

2008-05-23T10:39:00.002-06:00

Dangerously close to giving
away, all reality and horror
the unspoken, unnameable pain
held on to, as if time was numbered.

Distracted, guided towards oblivion
For what is more like home than
home itself?
Blindly following, the death trap.

Welling up, the energy begins
to tear at my resolve,
tempting to reveal my core
my bare self, unveiled.

Judged, like a butcher's display,
kept cool and safe, until you
consume, doomed to be repeated.

Cycles upon circles, the rippled
reality of actions committed, creates
a web, ensnared by past thoughts,
caught up in perceptions and visions.

Life, a natural process, leading
towards death, and then again
Life.
Sick humor. no rest for the best.
hear the laughter, running among
the ruins of humanity.

Muddy Water

2008-04-30T08:25:00.003-06:00

it's the unfathomable, the elusive
that haunts my foots steps, pitter-pat
and dreams, like the ghost of
a memory, tell of a place,
of a space, separate from pain

but dreams, unlike the ever
drawing forth of breath, can suspend
time, in order to accommodate

I cannot describe, or touch
unable to make tangible,
the questions that pursue me

maybe thought was not so befit
of me, of the small space
I provide, like a tea cup
a drift in an ocean of brew

where can we find solace, when
so little of our existence, our time
is consumed by the next need,
aware of only our noses

Blind. Sheep.

Is it difficult to see, or have
our minds become as dim as the tea

that we fail to grasp,
to recognize, that it's our
very own thoughts that guide us,
in fact, are the cause of
the effect that we see

and that somehow between the
pondering and the doing, something
of the original spark made it through
the spark that is you

so much effort, just to avoid
just to stem the tide, to just slide
in circles, for ever, eternity

and then the dream surfaces...
only a vague notion of
the idea of heaven, of sweet
oblivious bliss

but my attention breaks the spell
my release, undone by my need
some how the truth, slipped in
blurred the image, turned it dim

By Lamplight

2008-04-29T15:52:00.002-06:00

thump and jump, the beat
hold the thought, take a seat

trance, a stance, and apathy
taken hold, only stale empathy
blossoms forth, under shrouded moon

hilarity begets tragedy,
as the whole scene takes
on a more somber tone
the feeling that you're all alone

and trapped within the ideas
of conversations, long past
like thought bubbles,
left to wait, to conversate

hoping that today can
undo the past, and touch
the central node,
the hub of my mind

slide and stop, the drop
take the chance, harvest the crop
among the regret of yesterday
and to those who light the way

rising

2008-04-28T14:50:00.002-06:00

freedom from harm was
never guaranteed
just like nature's cruel
forces, indifferent and cold

reliant upon only yourself
responsible only to your thoughts
free, but maybe not from harm

suffer the day, and malcontent
I groan, and holler to spite
but whining does no good

how can it be, that these
fates, poor fools play me
I am craving sanity

Only naked reality, only
the blank truth of existence
to hold off the boredom
the slow movement of time

free to live, as long as you
survive,to breath another day
only hope to keep company
and the misty mornings

drowsy with sleep, i envy
the dawn, so unwavering
in its momentum and drive
and so does another day rise

Genesis

2008-04-25T14:36:00.001-06:00

To fit so close, so well

To blush at the same idea

And to smile, betwixt
the reflecting thoughts and
moments of disbelief

Comfort among conversations
about all and nothing
safe and sound, I complete
the circle, the path and life

Your eyes speak of undiscovered
days of love and giggles
yet to come

And here in your company
the reality of love without
conditions, shines on
like an ever constant star

With each breath my freedom
comes down upon my soul
enveloped by the rush of
wind among my mind and heart

You fit so close, within

And you blush at the same recognition

that time is just a dream
with its own consequences
but love, oh love …
can never be undone
once created.

Oh, Look!, Shiny...

2008-04-24T10:12:00.002-06:00

A list is only a sequence
of words set to a theme
and gathered in time.

But without direction the entire
package could be dissolved among
the gravel of distracted thought.
And within this theme
I weep.

Creating confusion, where lost
ideas could be found. I am
cheapened by the experience.

No more light, No more life,
I will only gain momentum
within the interim.

Whole, and not half; divided.
These thoughts only cover
the lingering sense that
something cruelly wrong has
found a way to trick us.

To trick us all into smiling
when we should cry.

Self-Discovery

2008-04-16T16:40:00.002-06:00

We all die alone
like the death of everyday life
all compounded upon the truth
that every breath gives both
life and death.

Fear is as close as one comes
to death. Only fear will turn
your heaven into cruel hell.

But I digress...
such simple terms do not
apply to such febbled causes.

No answer lies here. Only truth.
Because truth has nothing to do with
right and wrong. It matter not
your virtues or actions.

Only that you be true unto
your own heart, your own
life and lived experience.

Be you. wholly and unabashed
Live the moments of your life,
be the life that you so often ignore.

Then you will have lived truly
alone and awake within your
solitary experience of the world.

Real

2008-04-02T13:36:00.002-06:00

I may have been dead for years
I may have been comatose and limp
among the moments and breath
that make up a day,
but I still remember
I still ponder like a dark sunken ember.

Thoughts can utter such gravity
within the still and lonesome
space of your mind.

Lending favor to the inner theatre
as the moments, the lost time
replays itself within these hollow halls,
these spaces of my intellect.

But it does not require of me
the full attention of my smart
to see, or at least to acknowledge
the mortality of our love, the flawed
hopes and misremembered promises.

I may still feel dead to your words,
and I may still abandon my feelings
when thoughts of you torment my heart
But I have time, I have love,
I can heal, I can make all of
the lost time become real.

Tyranny of Agreement

2008-04-02T13:26:00.002-06:00

Home among the mighty
I roar and rant,
blessed to live so well.

I tote the best advice, with a penny's
smile, devoid of any passion,
though of my vast opinions
I will give.

Duality and exclusive thoughts,
we must agree, we stay within
the boxes around here.

Trampling the opposite choice,
raping any free speech out of
the air. Choking free will and
starving sanity and truth.

Criticize with wit and academic
regurgitation, kill joy and tyrant
fool spirit, forced indifferance
teasing the truth with insincerity.

First among men, I claim my position
the floor is mine, listen now.

Canned laughter follows like a
facet left on. Waiting for the
next punch line.
No space for creativity, only
right and wrong, and the tyranny
of agreement.

Don't Push the River

2008-01-05T10:01:00.000-07:00

Endless is the mind's dialog and torment,
or at least so it seems to an untrained mind.

Overwhelmed by the river's rush
the unpracticed are all washed away.

And the washing collects them and
places them within the flow and current.

Surrendered thusly, the truth finally
has a chance to sink into them
like the water into their clothes.

But some still fight, unwilling
to give up their power and thrust.

They will drown in their own
stubborn incapacity to learn
from their experiences, so
undone by life's unpredictability.

Others accept the reality and begin
to heal within, and can willingly
step out of the river's push
to sit a while in thought.

Life will not be wasted on them
the universe will propel them further
into the abyss, in order to change,
evolve and grow.

Grounded in peace,
not in the vicissitudes of life.

Doodles

2007-12-27T09:24:00.000-07:00

We sit here, all doodling away
pretending, there's something to do.

But the truth demands the floor
he wishes to unspeak the untruths.

All hush and hallowed, light comes in
like a chill on a sun clad day.

Where has the time flown,
where am I now?
Questions collide betwixt the calm
the inner space of the human race.

And then answers come flooding back
into existence the truth bears all.

My heart jumps, the pulse of new life
the air becomes light and free again.

The fear of being alone, dissolves
into the understanding of what it is to suffer.

Locked on to the goal, the concentration is steady
each breath at a time, each moment, each rhyme.

I smile to release the moment,
I step forward, not knowing the next.
And time is here, present
amongst the doodles and the answers
of the human race.

Dismissed

2007-12-25T23:03:00.000-07:00

Thoughts come forth upon the mind
and wrath begets angry words,
curses and slant against your face.

Like jewels tossed away,
away from the pools to shine deep.
Formed by loss the tears well up,
and beneath the rivers torrent
while the clouded mind sits in lost abandon.

Confronted, challenged. I speak.
But deaf lead the deaf, into misunderstanding
with untrained words and lies.
I am unable to conclude, I take my leave.

Memory fills the space, and time relaxes
the moment is drawn out:
I see the repeating patterns
the ripples of thought
creating actions, and then results,
and then experiences that begot
the next, and next.

The human comedy, the everlast play.
I speak for great and small
when I say twas you who stood so tall
that time when we said we would never
turn and about face.

Stop to Catch a Breath

2007-12-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

It's as if time stops and
the moment rewinds just a little, enough.
To let you see, clearly, lucid like
one of your best dreams.
Except this is reality. this
is actually happening.
You must accept the words
let the moment flow.
It'll only hurt more if you
resist.
But then that's the problem, the "issue".
Because how long can it be tolerated.
Where do we make the distinction
between your fault and my fault.
Disgusted by the game. Tormented
by my shame.
I am lost again.
No worries. Time has started again.
Breathe in.

Journal Entry: 10-16-07 (while flying in airplane)

2007-10-30T18:43:00.000-06:00

Watching the land below me pass by.
I am floating, I am flying...
Suspended above the earth's surface
an unnatural position for sure
was man ever meant to fly?
Maybe this dream and illusion will stop
seeming real soon.
Or maybe I will never know reality
from insanity.
And I'm ok with that.
I'm comfortable with uncertainty (am I?).
Floating, flying, dreaming, ... insane.

Sanity comes with contact with the
ground. Have I ever touched down?
Will we ever live naturally and
within our means?
Or will greed always rule this
sea of humanity?

Love, and light take the sanity
of man away. And it makes
me smile to think that it is
within the unsafe that the
impossible takes place.

2007-10-28T19:07:00.000-06:00

What is happiness?...

It's a simple question, or rather, its a question with only three words. Which on second thought does not necessarily mean that it is simple, just concise, I guess. (unlike the following answer)

Happiness is... um, I'm not sure. I could say that happiness is a feeling, but that is too transient, too conditional, and I guess my definition of happiness would have to include some sort of permanency or state of being that resides outside of the conditional. But how can that be?... we all reside within the conditional.

Is happiness a state of inner peace, or wholesome living, or humming Om all day long, or hugging a tree? Or any of that other hippie bullshit? I don't think so. Any true definition of happiness could not be a definition at all. Of all the happiness I have experienced, nothing has led me to any definitive experiences that I could "hang my hat on".

So maybe happiness is like everything else in this life... a choice. The choice to be happy, to be whole, to be content. But how can anyone be happy with that answer? "We want clarity.", they say. But how can anyone explain their own experiences to others. I am my own person, my own mind and filter of the universe. I perceive what I wish to perceive, what I have allowed myself to perceive.

Wherever you go, there you are. Place has no bearing on self. Time has no effect on experience. Nothing temporal or temporary provides the end. You carry yourself with you wherever you go. Thought is temporal. Emotions are temporal. My body, existence, and self are all temporal.

Impermanency is a bitch, but you better get used to it, or be unhappy the rest of your short little life.

...sorry, I like tangents.

It would be easier if I had the answers. It would be less painful if life was easy. It would also be quite boring, and where's the fun in that?

If there is one thing that I have learned, it's this: surrender to life, give in, turn in the towel. Fighting it only makes it worse. Accept your life, your place, yourself. Let the world pass, just as you will pass. The true meaning of suffering is to never have lived your life. To have been too preoccupied with your selfish goals to actually live the life given.

So after all of that (the above drivel) I have come to an answer, or at least my answer: Happiness is the choice to experience every day, every moment, every impermanent, transient, fleeting emotion,... and then, to let go and not hold on, to just simply live.

Detritus

2007-10-04T10:16:00.000-06:00

Same day as the rest,
all work and no pay.

Feeling the pain, and the clouded veil.
Pulled away, reveals the thing.

Same way as my best,
all words and no play.

Barren, bored out, and the suffered ones.
Burden gives way to light.

Some day, I will rest,
All thumbs and no say.

Dark, and on the fringes.
The things begin to play.

Some way, but not my best,
all theory and no display.

Forgotten in the attic!
Stored away for another day.

Monks Protest for Loving-Kindness, Burma

2007-09-26T16:52:00.001-06:00

Burmese buddhist monks breaking a ban on demonstrations; taking to the streets to protest against the militant government.

The monks have been under-fire since they began the protest. 200+ monks have been arrested, and there have been reports of several monks and civilians killed in demonstrations.

When reports of monks being beaten by security forces reached others in Burma, thousands came to defend the monks. As seen in the above photo, they are creating a perimeter around the monks; some are even holding hands.

Full story here.

I'm in the news...

2007-09-24T08:53:00.000-06:00

Or rather, my work is in the news. The drilling program that I was working on throughout July and August has gotten an official write-up in the financial press, here.

It's a bunch of technical jargon, and I personally am not mentioned even once. The drill company we hired and our company logging truck were mentioned, but no body in specific was named. But that is the point of the these write-ups, all the info you need and none of it that you don't.

2007-09-14T15:30:00.000-06:00

Autumn is in the air, here in the center of Wyoming. The leaves start to turn, just around the fringes... and then it spreads across the forest and the rivers.

The prairies have been golden for months now, but even they seem to have a bitter cast and feel. And my heart begins to grow restless and tired; as my mind wanders ceaselessly through my memories and my past. Sorting through my life like an unwaivering accountant.

Dew collects in large drops upon the grass in my lawn in the mornings. And the air is evermore crisp and cool as the world settles into a slow sleep.

The threat of snow is eminent, as the cooling skies bring water over the mountains. And that is where it will start; at the peaks and alpine. Where once great glaciers carved their path now just a memory of remaining snow has lasted the summer months.

Soon all of the leaves will fall. Leaving a blank canvas upon which the winter months will lay down its scene. But for a while there will be warmth of friends and the harvest.

I will begin to where warmer clothing and shut up my house against the chill nights. I will long to be near campfires and drink steaming hot cider. And I will think of those autumn days of childhood, where corn mazes, haunted houses, and pumpkin fields still tickle my senses.

Autumn is for the harvesting. And upon the fallen fields I will gather the crop, never truly knowing when it will be your last.

A geologist in the field

2007-08-22T11:13:00.000-06:00

I recently came in contact with a wonderful site called Uncyclopedia (subtitled,"the content-free encyclopedia").

I was forwarded an article on Geologists. The article was both inspired and hilarious. I also browsed other articles and found them equally humorous. However, you need an "inside" perspective on most topics to really understand the jokes and side references.

So check it out. Especially the Geologist article that is so dear to my heart.

laters

Iraq Adopts Color Coded Security Advisory System

2007-08-21T11:22:00.000-06:00

Actually, this is from the Onion, but it is entertaining.

2007-08-04T16:51:00.000-06:00

What is on my mind at any given moment varies. And with this variation comes fluctuations of mood, perspective, and general state-of-mind-ness. It is a wholly natural process, that one's own conditions are to be conditional. But with change comes suffering. Suffering; for the way things were and no longer are. Suffering; for the way things will be; and whether or not I like these new nuances of life.

Suffering can not ever truly be ceased. Rather how one reacts to the suffering can help to alleviate the trauma. If you linger upon the suffering, holding a grudge against it, you most definitely will aggravate the pain caused. In fact, one could define suffering as pain and pain as change. And so if change truly is the only constant of life, then a mental state in which change is the expected way of things would seem to be superior.

But how does one live in such ambiguity? How can society deal with the uncertainty of life? For the uncertainty is there, whether or not we choose to see it day to day. In fact, only when forced, by pain (or fear, or health problems, or financial issues, etc.), do we see the cruel harsh facts of the situation. Only by keeping one's thoughts open to all possibilities at all times, clear of distraction, illusion, and delusion, can we truly be at peace.

Imagine a society where judgment, prejudice, hate, and fear were no longer an issue. I know that these are very idealistic views, but that is where it all starts. We act how we act because we think the way that we think. And if my thoughts are where this all starts then my ideals, my most fundamental thoughts are where the changes must occur.

Peace is every thought, so that there may be peace in every step.

exploration

2007-07-26T20:15:00.000-06:00

sorted and filed, put away
plumb and fixed, well designed
arranged and sinew, unveiling sky
radical and planetoid, centering forces collide

home in the unknown, grown by fidelity of will
acts of passion, i go there forth i am

rippled and channeled, intelligently designed
wild but lame, the energy unwinds
fizzle and pop, offspring of nature's decay
power and knowledge, how find thee?, ok?

envision the future with me, with unjaded eyes
see beneath the surface, what i can see in mind

wild iris and polish horseshoes

2007-07-22T16:21:00.001-06:00

I am constantly amazed at what Wyoming has to offer. The Wind River mountains are a formidable force. The grandeur and beauty can be breath-taking.

Last night was spent up in the Wind River mountains south-west of Lander, WY at a rock climbing hotspot called wild iris. The rock is a dolomitic limestone and is real pitty and good for hand holds.

We had a couple of beers, some campfire food, and a guitar with which to play some tunes. It was a good time.

We also played a wonderful new game called polish horseshoes, which I highly recommend. Any game that combines frisbees, PVC posts, and beer is a good sport for me.

You all have fun out there now, alright?

2007-07-12T16:03:00.000-06:00

Simultaneously, and without warning, things collide.

Tumultuously, with the power of fate, I implode.

No place to cower, to lay safe.

Only I to ask, to answer the query.

Conclusions, no sympathy to share.

Confusions, a virus in the air.

Taken aside to be told what is true.

Taken for granted, the pages are blue.

Ambush Engineer... just like on a Surprise Attack train.

2007-07-02T15:13:00.000-06:00

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Ambush Engineer
Your Superpower is Nanotechnology
Your Weakness is Kittens
Your Weapon is Your Mystic Pistol
Your Mode of Transportation is Capsule

What's your Superhero Name?

2007-06-22T11:16:00.000-06:00

I don't enjoy moving. I've been through this before, last year in fact. But I stull end up moving my stuff. And cross state moving is the worst. With in town moving you can make multiple trips, which is not the case here.

Well, enough about me, whining away. I'll try to post something with a bit more substance next week. After the move.

2007-06-07T09:27:00.000-06:00

"It is slavery to live in the mind unless it has become part of the body." -Kahlil Gibran

My father spoke to me once about his past. He told me of a period in his life when he literally felt like a talking head. His head was completely severed from his body. He would feel his body, but it was absolutely foreign to him. Only his thoughts ruled his world.

And it makes me wonder how many people live the same way. Disconnected from the body; wholly separate from the physical world. Truly enslaved in one's own mind. Bound only to the whims of the mind.

The body is grounding. It is the anchor, the rock upon which to build. There is a balance and a flow that unites the body and mind. And through meditation one reaches the depths of both.

Interwoven medium, taking up space, occupying time... blessed and whole.

DUH?!.... I knew that.

2007-06-03T21:41:00.000-06:00

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Albino Mathematician.

Where You Lived: Tibet.

How You Died: Consumption.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

2007-05-29T21:41:00.000-06:00

"The human being may be no more real than is a cinematograph film. When the projected light is switched off all that remains is a blank screen. That which has been projected by light was a series of 'stills'. Such also is what is being projected by 'life'. The more you consider the analogy the more perfect it seems to be: it could help us to understand." - Wei Wu Wei

The "stills" of my life come to me at awkward times in the day. Truthfully, every moment is a still, but only a few reach me in completion throughout any given day.

Today it came when I left Laramie at 7am. And when I drove past Split Rock on 287 in the middle of Wyoming. And when I drove past Flaming Gorge Reservoir, looking at the tan, red, and fiery strata. And when I, for the first time, climbed Harrison Pass on Highway 139 between Rangely, CO and Grand Junction, CO.

Traveling can be a very altering experience. Taking space and time and making fools of them. But it nourishes the understanding of how our time here is nothing but the "stills" of our life. Waking up in Laramie. Driving to Riverton and then ending up in Grand Junction. It can be quite disorienting, but it's also exhilarating.

And so it can be seen that our memories are full of the still life pictures of our past. If only we could linger just a bit longer in the day, to capture our moments with a greater appreciation. To move beyond the bounds of boredom, to explore the realm of the mundane.

Before and After Face Recognition Software

2007-05-23T20:13:00.001-06:00

http://www.myheritage.com

SPACE and TIME

2007-05-22T18:08:00.000-06:00

No. I won't be your left hand.

The unused parts of you.

I can't stand to hear you whine.

For time to drag on like a bass line.

I'll sing my blues for you.

Though I know you could care less.

No. I can't let you, play the part.

I will stop the game, and truth confide in.

Take away the stage and props.

Throw away the 2-bit disguise.

No. I won't be your left hand.

I'll give you space, I'll give you time.

--------------

When I end up writing a "bad relationship" piece like this I'm usually concerned that people might try to connect this to my current relationship. So, let me clarify by saying that Tessa is the sweetest girl I've ever met, and if there were to ever be a bad part of our relationship it would totally be all me.

That said, my "bad relationship" stuff comes from my bad relationships and other thoughts and ideas (it happens when I contemplate the past). I like the idea of a left hand as a label for something that is only cosmetic and otherwise useless. Of course, this only applies if you are dominantly right handed. But you are all a smart bunch and I'm sure you caught on to that.

New Job, New Mineral

2007-05-16T10:38:00.000-06:00

This is "yellow cake", or U3O8 (uranium oxide). This is the result of mining and milling the original ore. After this stage they enrich the uranium so that the bulk percentage of U-235 (which naturally occurs as 0.7% of uranium) is around the order of 4%. Then it can be made into pellets, put into a fuel rod, then a fuel assembly and then start to boil water in the reactor's core.

It's good for me to know all of that, but I'll be working on the front lines with this mineral. Strathmore Minerals, out of Vancouver, has hired me as a geologist for their operations in Wyoming. They are currently based out of Riverton, WY, near the Gas Hills, which was a large producer of uranium oxide from post-war times up until the bust in the mid-eighties.

There are several other projects in Wyoming, but currently the Gas Hills has the greatest potential. Much of the ore from the mines that busted in the eighties is still in the ground, ready to be mined. But we won't be doing just open pit mining, there is another method called "in situ" mining.

"In situ" literally means "in the place", or I like to just say "in place", cause then I don't sound like an awkward Japanese translation. In situ mining is very low impact to the environment. Several holes are drilled, some monitoring wells, some injection wells, and some recovery wells. The injector wells inject a saline fluid into the permeable sandstone layer where the U3O8 is found and it is dissolved into solution. The recovery wells "recover" the U3O8 in solution and bring it up out of the ground. It is concentrated into a slurry before packaged to be shipped. The monitoring wells make sure that the uranium is not migrating away from the leaching area, which is cause for environmental concerns.

This is the arkosic sandstones that the uranium oxide is found in. Uranium can come from several different sources, and if you put three geologist in a room you'll get seven opinions about the matter (lol, look a geologist joke). "Arkosic" means that the sandstone is rich in feldspar and granitic(as in granite) fragments. Which then brings one to conclude that the source rock is close by, or as is the case for the Gas Hills, was close by. The Granite Mountains of Central Wyoming were at one point in history ("geologic" history; for clarification) much mightier than they are now. But we wouldn't have the arkosic sandstones to derive the uranium from if they had not decayed into smaller versions of their mightier selves.

The uranium is concentrated in the sandstones in areas called roll fronts due to their unique sinuous geometry from map view. These roll fronts are create by water flow in the porous sandstone units. The uranium is precipitated out when the water becomes very low in oxygen. Of course, this is just the model for the Gas Hills and similar deposits. But other systems exist as well. But they almost all involve an igneous/volcanic rock as the source and a sedimentary rock as the trap or concentrator.
[/end scientific content]

For all of you that actually read the post, congrats you are now a geo-nerd just like me. And I hope that you found it informative at the least or earth shattering at the extreme.

In closing, for all of the environmentally conscious out there, uranium and nuclear power is the cleanest, greenest, and safest source of electricity for your home, office,... world. Coal powered plants put millions of tons of CO2 into the earth's atmosphere every year. Uranium could solve this problem (since nuclear power plants emit no CO2, at all), and will in the future. The question is whether or not people will do anything to help it happen sooner, rather than later. France already has 80% of their power generated by nuclear means. Belgium gets 55% of their power from nuclear power plants. And the list goes on. The United States gets less than 15% of its energy from nuclear means.

If you were looking for something that could change the current trend of climate change, uranium is a solid solution to CO2 emissions and the world's growing energy needs.

PS 2 billion people in this world still don't have daily access to electricity in their homes, but they will within the next 20-30 years. Let's make sure that coal isn't the fuel that is used to fire those plants.
[/ok, so I lied about ending the scientific content; complain about it in the comments]

2007-05-14T09:31:00.000-06:00

coursing through me, like a symphony of joy
my current and pulse, the depth of my senses
enriched by the ebb and flow, from beyond, the energy grows
filled to overflowing, bliss and sorrow alike in many ways
contemplative and mindful, a path taken for peace
intimate struggle of self, firm and strong, held in place
to go beyond the bounds of history, to leave time alone
sunlight in my veins, compassion in every breath

Post-Birthday Post

2007-05-11T09:46:00.000-06:00

AH! The new Tundra. I had no idea that I would be driving one of these two weeks ago. And then employers started to contact me about actual positions with their companies. Funny how that happens.

I got the truck stuck in a snow drift about an eighth of a mile up the steep, guard-rail-less, mountain road. Apparently, trying to turn a truck around in wet, heavily packed snow makes for insta-ice under the wheels. It was a good thing that I had my trusty rock hammer with me (though a shovel would have be much better, but who's complaining). It took about a half of an hour to dig the Tundra out, which isn't too bad, considering that I've heard stories about people who had to walk out thirty miles after spending 8 hours trying to fix whatever was wrong with their vehicle.

And I learned a lesson. Get better tires for your truck before encountering snow on the mountain. Oh No, no. I did not learn, as most sensible people might, that driving a truck into a snow drift is a bad idea. For I have not proven that conclusively, yet. I am a scientist after all. And scientists don't avoid the dangers of their field, they get better and cooler gear to help them deal with the dangers. I am no weekend warrior, I do this for a living.

After coming down off the mountain. And deciding that getting stuck again was a bad idea. I encountered some deer. I can't tell you what kind, though I would guess mule deer. I am the rock guy, remember?

They must get a fair bit of human traffic, because I got pretty close to them.

After the others crossed the road and disappeared into the forest, one deer remained and thought that it might pose for me in the middle of the highway. Good picture, thanks deer.

And here is a random picture from the drive back to Elko. Anyone who has driven the Utah salt flats might remember the concrete tree. It is 27 miles into Utah from the Nevada state line on I-80. And it's a little weird.

Here's a much better picture for you. I don't know who to credit for this, because I can't remember which site I stole it from. Eitherway, I didn't take this pic.

So there you go. That is my post-birthday, new truck, pic post for you all. later

VW Jetta

2007-04-30T20:30:00.000-06:00

I am now the proud owner of a VW Jetta, year 1984. Yeah, that's right, that makes it a classic, or just really damn old for a car. At least it is still younger than me. Does that make me a classic?

1984 was the last year for the first generation of Jettas. Depending on where you get your info, this is an A1(german classification) or a Mark 1(unofficial classification) Jetta, the current Jettas out on the market today are A5/Mark 5 Jettas. And in 1984 they made a GLI version of the Jetta that made some marked improvements on the engine (90 HP in stead of the previous 50 HP) and added a bigger trunk as well.

A view from the back.

And now from the front. I mean to replace the broken fog light, just haven't gotten around to it yet.

Interior shot. It is 5-speed manual, of course. And it came with a CD player too.

It also has a sunroof, which is a total bonus. This feature is actually what convinced me to buy it.

And I have made some improvements on it so far. This is the speaker system that I installed myself. The previous speakers left a bit to be desired. But after 23 years I guess they were due for an upgrade.

So after the initial $1500 to purchase the vehicle and then another $800 for repairs and other necessaries, I think that it will be a pretty good car for Tess and I. It will be going on its first road trip to Wyoming this week, so I hope the Germans knew what they were doing 23 years ago. The previous owner said it got 28 mpg highway, so I will see what I get on the trip. And everything I have read about these cars has been nothing but good news. One review said that the engine is "bulletproof". That's a pretty good compliment, especially for a car its age.

Paradox

2007-04-29T00:49:00.000-06:00

Have you ever noticed how life never operates on "your" watch? How it picks and chooses for you the results of your efforts? And when you least expect it, after successive failures, something beautiful lands in your lap?

Well, that seems to be a paradox that I have experienced time and time again. It is frustrating, infuriating, and awe-inspiring. I could deal with continual and constant failure. I could learn to live with a norm that is "bottom rung". I could, ...but I can't, because life continually turns favor.

And so after countless hours of effort and appeals, trials and petitions; seemingly excoriated by the world. And after you have yet again yielded to the "reality" of your existence, it all changes. The flood gates are opened, and the desired commodity presents itself in abundance. This push and pull, this ebb and flow is maddening, ...but not disheartening.

It's a game, a dance that you have with fate and with serendipity, only made more difficult by fighting with it; though fight, we often do. Because isn't that the real proof of being alive? A constant battle for dominion over your own life.

I believe that this would fall under the category of suffering, in relation to Buddhist thought. And it is suggested that the cessation of suffering comes about when you no longer crave, desire, or want any conditional entity. I personally accept this as wisdom and truth. So why do I continue to embody the ambition and pretension that damns me to this life of suffering?

But I guess it is inevitable that even after being given instruction to not touch the hot stove, one, never having touched the stove before, is compelled to touch. And so I continue to touch this life, to live as only I can live. And though my footprint is small, the distance covered in the end will be vast.

P.S. I have been offered a position with Strathmore Minerals in Wyoming, among others. And I'm going to accept the position and move back to Wyoming with Tessa in August. [smile]

San Francisco, Part 2

2007-04-23T15:16:00.000-06:00

One of the many cable cars that roam downtown San Francisco. Unfortunately, they are no longer a free ride. Five bucks to ride now, unless you just jump on mid ascent of one of the steep streets they go up and jump off before the conductor can get money from you. Or so I've heard.

Looking up California St. towards the west. Directly south (not shown in picture) is Market St., one of the more busy thoroughfares. This cable car took me from California and Market up over Nob Hill area and on to Van Ness, a bit deeper into the city. More residential and very much less touristy.

Down in the Fisherman's Wharf. Lots of fresh seafood and restaurants. Plus many vendors of crap made in China that says something about San Francisco on it.

The ferries and bay down by the Wharf.

The corner of Powell and Greenwich, in North Beach area. Looking East up towards Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower.

Further up Greenwich towards Telegraph Hill, and the tower too.

And now looking back down Greenwich.

Coit Tower itself. A monument to one Hitchcock Coit a woman of wealth and influence in early San Francisco history. Part of her estate was left "...for the beautification of the city I loved so dearly"... or something like that. And the committee that was appointed for her estate built her the 210 ft tall tower on top of Telegraph Hill. Giving the visitor a 710 ft above sea level view of the city.

Up in the tower. I was the first person to go up the tower that day. It had rained that morning and it was still quite cloudy out.

This is a great headline. Front page of the newspaper that day. This is not the tabloids, this is the real newspaper. I wish I was a skater.

San Francisco on foot is a constant hike. You could get in really good shape in this town if your knees didn't give out in the process. My right knee was killing me by the time I left, and I've hike a lot of "hills" before. It was humbling to say the least.

The Ferry Building, at the north-eastern-most extent of Market St. and across Embarcadero St. (which, I believe, means embankment in Spanish) which follows the bay/coast line of San Francisco. Kinda like Lake Shore Drive in Chicago.

The trip was a great couple day excursion. I could have taken a million more pictures while I was there, but I'm sure to be back again. Hope you all enjoy the pictures.

2007-04-19T23:09:00.000-06:00

From tightly woven
to loosely athread

I am thusly cloven
between the head

How weak the senses
lost in craving, are they

Hunger, unhallowed
though I beg you to stay

Coursing, caressing
and playing with its prey

My will, I have given
to fools, all at play

But what can we do
when given, unable to cure

Plotted against, in time
an honored tradition, a rite

Spent are the days, asleep
from beyond, my choices ripen

And round, on cycles born
again to learn and live

San Francisco, Part 1

2007-04-14T12:56:00.000-06:00

My window to the city. Taken at the Coit Tower on the top of Telegraph Hill, looking south.

The above picture was taken on my second day in San Francisco. But, my first real encounter with the city was Buena Vista park, which is in between Lower Haight and Haight and Ashbury areas.

This was the best angle for the shot of the sign to the park, at the time, though the park is not in the picture. The park itself is a lush forrested area with a myriad of winding paths and wooden stairs that eventually all lead up to the top/summit of the hill. From bottom to top it is a 300 foot plus hike to the top.

This is the corner of Haight and Ashbury. Where the summer of love in the sixties took place. And of course in the surrounding area, which is still a haven for free thinkers and counterculture. There are some great shops up and down Haight St. this was easily my favorite neighborhood in San Francisco.

Golden Gate Park is another pretty area. It's also a vast and vibrant greenhouse of flora and fauna, including the hippies and drug dealers that hang out down towards Haight St..

In this installment I have showed you the Haight St. and Golden Gate Park part of my trip. I'll follow up with some pics from the other areas I went.

liminal persceptions

2007-04-02T00:33:00.000-06:00

The time away from Nevada has been good. But soon I will be back in the "thick of it". I am fortunate to have a job in my field of study and to be making a decent paycheck. So one is forced to ask, why this does not satisfy ones needs and thus make one happy? Of course, the assumption is that a good job and financial "security" are the basis for happiness. But in my case, these things do not constitute true happiness. In fact, I vowed not so long ago to do nothing solely based upon monetary motivations.

Time away from Nevada within the presence of old and new friends gives me the perspective needed to evaluate my situation. And though no conclusions have been made yet, I am hopeful of sound choices.

I must be me. I will do what supports my most fundamental truths. And in the end I am always rewarded by the good choices made.

Visual DNA, baby!

2007-03-23T00:01:00.000-06:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

2007-03-18T17:23:00.000-06:00

"Longing for eternity exists because we cherish ourselves, provided our daily life is happy. But if it is miserable, then you want to shorten life." -the Dalai Lama

Growing up Catholic gives one a very keen understanding of the "Longing for eternity...". Or rather, as is the case for many, the fear of hell or damnation plays a central role in the lives of many Catholics and Christians alike. For isn't that exactly what Christ was supposed to have come for; the salvation of our souls?

I personally think it is a bad idea to do anything based upon our fear of it. Obviously, in a survival situation of man vs. wild one's own instincts (if we as humans can still claim to have natural, base instincts) can help one to survive. But that is not the sort of fear I speak of; instinctive fear motivates one to do something, where as the fear I speak of cripples, narrows, restricts, and forces one into inaction. It is an early death: "But if it is miserable, then you want to shorten life."

The obvious conclusion here is that either extreme is just as ridiculous. Life is full of highs and lows, good and bad times, and we can get lost very easily in this ebb and flow. But the piece that remains unmoved and solid is the center of existence, the epicenter of life. Do not waste your time wistfully watching the road, and waiting for eternity to come and save you. That is an early death, and a wasted life.

a recent poem

2007-03-12T00:55:00.000-06:00

Chosen, spoken
taken alive

Where will they live
where will we hide

Taken from torment
a moment aside

How can they justify
their tongue-twisted lives

Fallen as paper
tossed into the sky

Why do they squirm so
when they're told, it's a lie.

A Moment; beyond the dream

2007-03-11T16:16:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while, I find myself confronted by such beauty as to elicit tears of joy.

And in these moments I am touched by the divine, blessed by the noble presence of nature's gifts.

Being able to step back, to unfocus your will, and to touch your very core.

And it is within the non-doing, within the company of self, that one can truly see the world.

Life without limits, without the purpose of gain, or the torment of loss.

Totally alive. Aware. And Free.

IF

2007-03-07T02:07:00.000-07:00

If I could tape my thoughts and hold the world, still for a while.

If I could take the good and the bad, not separate, but one.

And if reality would lie down and let it be observed as a scholar revels in the nakedness of truth.

My life would take on shape, the universe would fold in upon the now, and time... the master of our death could hold me for a while.

If I... if we... if they... if all. Then how could we go wrong?

Sunday Morning Coming Down

2007-02-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

I recently had a realization. I'm no longer Catholic. It came to me when Tessa informed me that it was Fat Tuesday. It came slowly, but then I remembered what Fat Tuesday was all about, and then it hit: Lent. If I hadn't been reminded of Fat Tuesday I could have floated on by the whole season of Lent without ever knowing. I'm going to still float on by the season of Lent but now I can at least wave once in a while.

I like to think of Jesus' 40 days and 40 nights to be equivalent to the Buddha's ascetic time before finding the middle way. And it was in both, that temptation came to lure them away from the truth that they sought. Unless you think Jesus was already pure and perfect, then he went out into the desert just to prove a point, I guess. But I would rather focus on Jesus' humanity, the only real part of the man they called Jesus. And in so doing Jesus becomes a seeker of truth. All true seekers are also revealers, but one must first seek and find, and most importantly they must experience and be tested.

It's both freeing and lonely to no longer be associated with Catholicism. But I wouldn't change a thing. The loneliness is a constant reminder of the truth, I'm here with me and no one can help me. It's a stone in my mind to keep me here where I belong. If I try to forget about it I get easily lost. But with it always there I can be nowhere but here. The freedom is the best part. And the whole point, I would think. Free to think. Free to feel. Free to be me. Free to let go.

Sunday mornings are no longer the same for me. In fact, in many ways they are just like every other day, except that shops aren't open in town. But Walmart still is open. Maybe Walmart and I have more in common than I thought. Then again, hopefully not.

Memory

2007-02-19T23:18:00.000-07:00

Things undone. Pieces of life left rough and unfinished. Memories of childhood, and of sweet days where life was gold and pristine. Gifted by the presence of a certain person or place. All that was kept was the bitter images and feelings attached to them. No filter to protect you from the truth of it. Only the bone dry reality of life as it was.

One could go insane spending too much time with the past. Like an old friend come to visit but you can't touch it. Interaction or conversation is not possible, just remembering. Enveloping yourself in the reality that was and taking it all in again. It can hurt, oh how it can ache. And it makes you wonder how people can live with such emptiness and regret when life has left you with just the scraps. No substance, only the left-overs in the frig.

How cruel it can be, when even the best memories leave a sour taste in the mouth. Because it will never be the same again, never be that wonderful or vibrant as you remember. The past can leave you feeling more lonely than anything else I have ever encountered. Grasping to bring it all back, to recreate the lost and vacant.

But then I awake. I see myself as I am. I take a breath and just let go. One can go insane spending too much time in the past. Too many sweet sorrows. Too many grey days of memories that would tear your heart in two if you were to spend too much time wishing for their return.

But you can cherish. You can hold in precious observance the times that made you who you are today. As long as today is here and living and breathing, the past has meaning. Without the present, the past is only a ghost tempting you to despair and forget why you are here. Even if all you can do is just be. To just be here in this very moment is all that is ever needed of you.

Be still and know that you are complete and whole just the way you are, right now, right here.

With much metta...

Thoughts...

2007-02-13T22:59:00.000-07:00

To begin by saying that life is fair would not be telling the truth of it. To hold that good intentions, hard work, and responsible actions provide a solid basis for a happy, meaningful life cannot but be discarded as unsound. To begin anything with such optimistic standards is to be blind to the everyday monotony that surrounds one's psyche.

The noble truth is the existence of suffering, its ever pervasive presence in life, and the reality of its power over human emotion. All else is unknown to me for I know not that which is transitory or conditional, for it can't be known. Only the realization of the totality of my ignorance can be given sound credibility.

Impermanent is the world. Transitory is the mind. Conditioned is self. Lost are we, in the abyss of reality.

(not meant to be morbid... just thoughtful)

2007-02-06T00:31:00.000-07:00

Inspired by His Sinfulness' current soliloquy post, I thought that I would post some H.P. Lovecraft poetry. He has some wonderful pieces that are worth some literary merit. Or at least worth a read. Enjoy.

Nemesis by H. P. Lovecraft Published 1 November 1917

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies,
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear,
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

2007-02-02T16:45:00.000-07:00

February is an interesting time during the year. And I don't mean Valentine's Day or Ground Hog's Day or the Super Bowl or the half of a dozen other semi-important items that occupy the space on the calendar. It's got a certain drone to it. The middle of winter, when everyone seems to be waiting for something.

Here in Elko we haven't seen snow since the beginning of January. Here in the state where its very name means "snowy" in Spanish. I was promised much snow this past summer, in fact there was much eye rolling in pointed exaggeration as to how much snow was to be expected. But now, all the ground seems to be doing is waiting. And getting quite a bit muddy in the process.

I'm sure that a few more snow storms will roll on through the area and blanket the ground with more snow, but what then? How will that change the slow lull of the mid-winter? Will the ski slopes and mountain passes become more lively with snow sports and snowmobiles? Or will it just give the commuter something to complain about again?

I watch people on the road when I'm driving either to the drill rig or just around town, and I see so many sullen faces, just waiting to get home, or to get to work, or to get to wherever they seem to think that they need to get to. Sometimes you find the person who's got the stereo blasting and their jamming away with the beats. Or the rancher who gives you the two finger wave, not even bothering to lift the hand off the steering wheel, but at least he waved, right?

Waiting. Even most television programs make you wait until the end of the episode to show you what you have been waiting to see, because they have been playing it up the whole hour while making you wait through commercials and other useless stuff. I'll admit that I'm prone to watch the whole hour, enduring all of the commercials and tag lines, just to get the final word. And it never fails to amaze me at how lame the endings tend to be, when compared to how much hype that was given them throughout the whole program.

But I guess that's the point I'm trying to make. Why are we always waiting for the next big thrill? What is wrong with today? What is wrong with now? And I guess there is nothing "wrong" about now, rather it is the absence of what is "right" or fun or exciting that besets people with long, bored faces on their drive home. Or maybe it is the long haul between Christmas and Easter that makes it so hard to endure the cold, dry months of winter.

Stress, Strain, and the Escape

2007-01-23T01:10:00.000-07:00

All too often I find myself wound up tight like a string ready to snap. Only one breath away from insanity. I find myself holding onto intangible things. This anguish, caused by such thoughtlessness, is not easily undone. The soul is not easily un-wound.

But it starts with acknowledgement. That is the first step... the first truth. And it is within such moments that I am jarred out of the dream; enough time to understand and to act. From there it is just the movement of the river that draws me further. It is the pulse of my heart, the rhythm of my breath, or the seminal mind, clear of obstruction.

So, I allow you now... if you please, to take this moment and re-awaken yourself. Let go of all conception. Experience this moment without any conditions, judgements or conclusions. Find out what is here for you now, and not what you would place upon it. Step out of the rhythm and flow of the river and stand along the banks, taking it all in.

namaste

Open Range

2007-01-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

Nevada is one of the only states where you can be driving down the road, hit a cow, and it be your fault. And it is the only state where everywhere is Open Range, even downtown Elko is open range, technically speaking of course.

So, to follow up my last post where I showed you where Tess and I live, now I will show you some of the scenery that is just East of where I'm currently working.

This is atop Harrison Pass looking East. Harrison Pass is in the South part of the Ruby Mountains, and the Rubys are about 15 miles South of Elko. I am currently driving about 60 miles to the drill site, one way. And I go by some pretty cool scenery on the way.

Here are some Vedauwoo style granite monoliths up on the pass.

Here's the view south of the pass.

This is some of the local wildlife. The deer are quite small. About the size of a Great Dane.

The sun was just perfect for this shot. Sunsets are pretty uneventful in town, but out in the hills it's a great time.

These are some of the Southern Peaks of the Ruby Mountains before you get to Harrison Pass(ie north of the pass). That is about 4-5 thousand feet of relief right there, so don't let the scaling in the photo throw you.

This is the field vehicle that Carlin Trend (the company I currently work for) gave to me for getting around in the field and hauling back samples. It is a brand new 2007 Dodge Ram 1500 with a 5.7L Hemi V8 engine in it. Tessa says that it gives her "shiveries" in her tummy when I rev the engine. It does, in fact, have significant get-up-and-go-ness

Yet another self-portrait. But since I spend all of my field time by myself this makes sense.

This has been another episode of my life, via pictures and captions. I hope you enjoyed it. Keep smiling.

namaste

Home At Last

2007-01-09T19:00:00.000-07:00

I believe that the promise of pictures was made this past summer. But at least you get to see them, no matter how late I am at taking the pics, right?

So, without further ado, here are some "action" shots of 1224 Idaho St. :

This, fittingly, is where I am now preparing this post. Nice desk, eh? I just built that today,... yep, I'm cool.

The 32" Flat Panel LCD HDTV is one of my favorite things in the place, besides Tessa, of course.

This is where the TV is viewed from. It's pretty cozy. It's also right next to the desk with the laptop. We do what we can with the space.

This is the front room, where most of Tessa's books live. She has more in her reading nook.

The other corner of the front room is where the kitchen table is... right now it is the "stuff" table.

Straight on through the front room takes you through the kitchen, which is on route to the bedroom and Tessa's reading nook.

And this, of course, is the Tessa in her natural environment... the reading nook. The loft bed is above this area.

So, there it is... the dime tour. Thanks for sitting through it and if you are ever coming through town all we have to offer is the futon (see picture above).

namaste

Winter Strom Warning

2007-01-04T11:35:00.000-07:00

We made it back to Elko, NV just in time. As we were driving
the last 50miles from Wells I could feel the wind from the new weather system pushing the little Escort around. And when I woke up this morning there was an inch or two already on the ground.

Well, that's all for now. Unless the weather gets worse I'll still be going back to work on the 8th.

Abhayagiri: Fearless Mountain

2006-12-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

I recently, due to my wanderings through the Buddhist world, came across a very cool monastery in Northern California. It is of the Theravada Thai Forrest Tradition, it is called Abhayagiri (pali), which means Fearless Mountain ("a" = not,negation; "bhaya" = fear; "giri" = mountain, ... for those etymologists out there), and is situated in the Redwood Valley north of San Francisco.

The name itself was the name of an old city/temple/monastery in Sri Lanka around 50 B.C.E., a very happening and ecumenical monastery at the time. Many Chinese Buddhist monasteries were founded from this monastery. Abhayagiri seems to be a very peaceful and nourishing place. Visitors are allow for daily or longer visits. There is a group of lay members who do other things outside of the monastic grounds but are welcomed to visit on Uposathas and other special days.

First time visitors are allowed to stay up to a week, and then are asked to leave. While there you are asked to participate in the daily chores and routines of the monks.
Personal meditation at 5am followed by a short period of chores, light breakfast at 7am, more personal meditation time or study at 7:30am, "lunch" at 10:30am, daily work period at 12:30pm, 5:30pm is Tea time, an informal time to talk with the monks, ask questions, and listen to a reading followed by chanting and silent (group) meditation at 7:30pm.
Notice that no more food is consumed after noon, this is part of their renunciation and vows. But think about it, how much of the bulk majority of the food you eat is consumed after noon? I'd be losing lots of weight on this diet.

All of their recorded chants and evening talks are free to download if desired, and all of their books and literature from the different Ajahns (teachers) are free as well. It is part of their ministries, to be able to give freely of their labors. It is quite inspiring and I also get to be a proxy lay person of their monastery at the same time.

So anyway, enough of me. Here is the link to the site: http://www.abhayagiri.org

Check it out, it seems like a place I would like to visit, and maybe I will some day.

2006-12-12T16:35:00.000-07:00

This reminds me of Stitch. A liitle more "fluffy", of course.

Soup, sourdough, and warmth

2006-12-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

Cooking a good soup is a favorite pastime during the winter months. It started when Benny K, Kit and I were living together. We made many of our meals by way of soup. I believe that we cooked everything in a separate Presto pot/stewer over next to the frig. It was a great way to eat. Soup and bread and tea and good company.

I had gotten out of making soup since then, but maybe I've found it again. I found a multitude of potatoes and onions in the kitchen/frig and decided to make a potato and onion soup. I added rosemary, thyme, basil, and bay leaves. And I cooked the red and white onions in olive oil and basalmic vinegar until they browned. Then I added the chopped Yukon and red potatoes with water into the pot. After about an hour of boiling and steeping it was ready to eat.

We recently bought a loaf of sourdough and cracked wheat bread, and that seems to be a good companion with the soup. Also, a good book and a nice sweater does well to comfort a person on cold winter nights.

Elko has been an interesting mix of wet and cold nights followed by sunny days with a slight breeze. I have been out of work for a while now and am finding ways of occupying my time, but after 6 months straight of go go go, one has a bit of trouble just yielding to a day with nothing much to do. Hopefully after the holidays the work scene will pick up a bit more.

Stay healthy and warm.

namaste