Post

All Hail the Queen!

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She’s the most regal queen 

         that ever walked the earth

She servants in the hundreds has

         who depend on her for birth

 

Royal jelly fed to her 

         for a weighty amount of time

formed her different from the rest

         and kept her in her prime

 

Bees are Nature’s gift to flowers

         and to blossoming trees

Without them not as much beauty

         dancing in the breeze

 

If their kingdom you would love 

         to honor and reverently bless

consume more organics and in your monarchical yard

         spray chemicals much less

 

 

******************************************************************************************************* 

[The larger bee — in the center of the top photo, with the gold marking placed on its back — is the Queen.  In the bottom photo, young bee larva can be seen in the comb (that the worker bees have been feeding).  Many thanks to Chad McGinnis for allowing me to photograph; Chad is the beekeeper of these fine bees.]

Queen bee and worker bees (bees of Chad McGinnis) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

Bee Larva and Bees. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

Post

Beyond Linear Time…

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In the excellent movie “Arrival,” which is now out on DVD, aliens come to earth to help humanity (and themselves).  One thing that they do, for humanity — while behind a thick, glass-like barrier (separating them from the humans) within their spacecraft —  is to reveal, to humans, the erroneousness and primitive nature of linear time.  Most of us, by the way, think and perceive exclusively in terms of linear time.  This movie hit home with me because for many years one was not fooled by the illusion of linear time.  In the movie, there was someone (and there were those) who could see the future as if it was not separate from the present in any way, shape, or form. 

Throughout my childhood,  my siblings and i knew (all too well) what it meant when my mother would say that she “had a feeling” about someone.  It meant that that person was about to pass away within the next few days, even if they were healthy.  We always wondered if she’d “have a feeling” about one of us!  Whatever it was that my mother had must have some form of genetic makeup (or something) because i tend to see things beyond the mere present too.   What i see, fortunately, doesn’t involve death or dying; it entails more ordinary occurrences, for the most part.  This has been going on ever since i was a kid.  Some examples, for instance:   When i was a very young boy, we — my friends and i — would go to the corner store to purchase some snacks, like a bag of potato chips or some Mr. Freezies.  My grandmother never went shopping, never went to that store… but on one particular day as we headed toward the store, with the store far from where we were, i had a strange feeling.  I felt that my grandmother would be in that store when we arrived there, and that i would be a bit embarrassed about running into her there.   When we later arrived at the corner store, she was there; she said something to me, in front of my friends, that made me feel a bit embarrassed.  And more recently, for example:  I would see mental images of our large garage overhanging door (and wonder why i would be having recurrent images about something silly like that)… and later come home to find out that my wife (without consulting me whatsoever) had a new garage door installed.  Or i would have repeated visions about a woman (Sandy F.) who was a direct-care assistant at the school for the handicapped where i worked before i retired.  However, she (Sandy F.) was one of the direct-care assistants in some other teacher’s classroom… not mine.  (I thought: “Why would i be repeatedly having images of her, since she wasn’t even in my classrom?)  A day or so later, i was invited to come to a retirement party for a teacher who was retiring from the school where i used to work; she was the teacher in whose class Sandy F. worked in as a direct-care assistant.   Later, when at the retirement party, the woman who i was seeing visions of was sitting right next to me at the dinner table of the restaurant; then they told me that Sandy F. was going to be taking over the classroom as the new teacher.  I congratulated her (while she had a big smile on her face)!  Just the other day, while still in bed in the morning, i had a vision of being in a vehicle and starting to crash into the side of a big semi truck.  That day, i went shopping… and on the way home — in my car — was stopped at a four-way stop intersection.  It was my turn to go, after a stop, but a big semi truck (perpendicular to my car) came roaring through the intersection without stopping (only very slightly slowing down).  I am more than glad that i wisely hesitated at that intersection! 

There is a lot more (much more, in fact), involving this, that one can tell you about, but i definitely think that it is best left unsaid (and private); it is way more involved than what i have ever told others (including my wife)… way more involved.  There are very deep implications in all this.  Like the movie suggests, we are a very primitive species, though we think that we are highly evolved.  The world isn’t flat; this one is the only real viable one we have; we can’t mindlessly trash this one and fly away to escape to some other pristine sphere.  And finally, in ending this posting, i will refer to Albert Einstein who said, “For those of us who believe in physics, the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”

 

 

For Your Eyes Only (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

For Your Eyes Only (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

Post

Poem of One

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Of course,everything that we ever warmly saw

       was exactly what we were

With this,clocks might disagree

       or limited walls of where

       just as when the frost yawns

       or the tide jumps

       or the winds,in their caprice,

       change their minds about moving

 

Suddenly they shouted

       and their shout was what we were

       and always will be

       as when the sun and flowers

       dance so close that each

       the other is

       or how birds fly in unison

       as one organism

       together but not

       as many

 

Like when the poetic words

       and the reader are

       not two separate things

       when why the she and he

       of love is not

       the cold separatist

       apart from analysis

 

Dancing (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

Dancing (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

 

 

Post

Appearance matters…

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Appearance matters.  However, what is much deeper matters much more.  To look elegant and spectacular on the outside, yet to have an inside that is corrupt, uncaring, tainted, depressed, and disorderly… is a bit of a sorry waste.  Many wear fancy suits and ties or fashionable dresses that look sensational; however, sensations are one thing, real order and profundity are another.  To have a marvelous house, an impeccable lawn, a stunning car, and name-brand clothes is one thing;  to be internally rich, orderly, caring, perceptive, and sagacious… is another.  Most of us were groomed and tutored to chase after — and care about — the outward things.  Most were not deeply encouraged to care about the inward things.

Though many have riches, possessions, and fancy clothes, a huge number of them are not beaming with ongoing joy and compassion.  It may be that real richness, in life, has little to do with possessions and things; rather, it involves order beyond separation, accumulation, groping, and mere desire.  A profound, inward order cannot occur when the mind merely falls for outward appearances and ordinary values.  The real treasure is not out there “to get”; distance and time have nothing to do with it.  Why have so many of us depended, so heavily, on distance and time?  At the precise moment that the mind seeks pleasure… joy is gone.  We are not suggesting that one should not do pleasurable things now and then;  just don’t get mesmerized by a pursuit that may often not be necessary at all.

With the real ending of distance and separation — not the mere abstraction of an ending or intellectualization about ending — joy is blossoming, compassion is blossoming.  Then there is no striving for superficial things.  Depth does not cling to superficiality.  To see this, one must perceive beyond the surface.

 

Just beeing (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

Just beeing (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

 

 

 

Post

White Faced Circus Clown…

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There was a white faced circus clown

           On odd days he would smile

           On even days he would frown

He said he wished more people were odd like him

           with juggling all the whiles

 

There was a white faced circus clown

           who could easily summersault

           He realized that most thought that they were separate

from what they see

           but that it was not their fault 

 

There was a white faced circus clown

           who earned their whistles and cheers

           He helped them leave their troubles behind

though they were not separate

           from their fears

 

There is a little circus clown

           with long orange floppy awkward feet

           and if you ever meet with him

(who you are too)

           you’re in for quite a treat

 

White Faced Circus Clown (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

White Faced Circus Clown (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

 

Post

The Measureless Mind

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“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”  — T. S. Eliot

 

Most of us are perpetually measuring with the brain.  We, so often, compare ourselves or our possessions with other entities (or what they have).   We measure time, perpetually, as the past, present, and the future.  We endlessly categorize things, label things, analyze things, and recognize things via a series of measurements and sequential paradigms.  And, since the observer is really not so separate from the observed… we are what measurement actually is.  We think that we are somehow separate from this measurement… but we are not.  We are actually what the measurement is.  However, life — real life — is so much more than what mere measurement entails.

Many are very proficient at measuring their monetary achievements; some think of little else.   Many measure their power.   Many measure their day by how much entertainment they experienced.  This entertainment, however, is often merely an escape from their own emptiness, their own limited vacancy.  Recognition (of things), along with their categorization, is a continuity of measurement.  Thinking that you are “in the ‘now'” is a continuity of measurement.  Considering possibilities of what the “future may be” is a continuity of measurement.  Thinking that you are a separate “controller” with power over “other thoughts” is a continuity of measurement.  Trying to be silent (and supposing you are silent) is a continuity of measurement.  Calculating the length of your kitchen countertop is a continuity of measurement. 

Many of us are perpetually measuring.  Is that what life is about?  May it be that there is much more to life than mere measurement?   Is real love measurable?  Is real compassion what can be measured?  Is profound insight the result of mere measurement?  Can wisdom be measured?  

It may be that all measurements, by man, are limited, partial.  We have been indoctrinated to frequently use measurement; we have not been encouraged to consider living (at times) beyond mere measurement.  We will not be an intelligent divergence away from habitual reactions (with their limitations) if we remain exclusively in (and merely “function as”) measurement.  It may be possible to go beyond mere measurement into what may be — all measurements aside — truly unlimited.  Does it take a limited amount of time to get there?  Of course not.

 

Beyond Far (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

Beyond Far (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

 

Post

Springing from Youth… (Don’t let it ever happen)…

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These old shoes

           finished with hopscotching

           on colorful sidewalks

           and have put red and blue marbles

           and jump-ropes into cessation

 

These wrinkled hands

           interred their baseball bats and ping pong balls

           deep into the cobwebbed past

           and forgot about sweet kites soaring

           amongst the bluest of skies

 

Old,impaired eyes

           traded the joy of simple flower-filled days

           for the complexity of money

           while they finished with oak trees

           and became buried in paperwork

 

Enjoying the Flowers (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017

Enjoying the Flowers (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2017