.
Two_________female
antswish
____ing
to
share________________ the same
flower for
ever
Whoever says that they should not
is out of the blossoming
.
[Added note: My sister-in-law is married to another woman; both she and her spouse are very sweet, caring, and kind; they are far better parents than mine ever were.]
Someone’s aunts on Stella D’oro. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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My heart goes out to those in Charleston, South Carolina who lost their lives or loved ones. The Confederate flag needs to go. To many, it (justifiably) represents repression and hatred. Personally, one doesn’t care to wave flags of any type. If you are a global citizen (i.e., a true citizen of the world), then separative flags have very little meaning. Flags tend to reinforce the feeling of separation and indifference regarding “those at a distance.” Many think that their country or area is superior to “that” country or “other” place… or is superior to “those other people.” During war, so many feel that “God” is on their side… as if God takes sides in violent, separative confrontations! A truly perceptive mind realizes a profound truth that places it in a common bond (united) with all living creatures. Separative flags (of any kind), which promote boundaries and divisiveness (and they pretty much all do), have little significance to a mind that is truly in such a bond beyond demarcations.
https://secure.avaaz.org/en/the_confederate_flag_needs_to_go_loc/?bqntMib&v=60732
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[This baby snapping turtle was in the backyard, running about. The adults lay their eggs in the ground; when the babies finally hatch, they need to quickly get to water (or else they get eaten by raccoons, coyotes, foxes, or crows and such). After taking a few photos, I carefully tossed this little guy into the river that we live on.]
Baby Snapping Turtle (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Baby Snapping Turtle (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Moving the key
to unlock the door
is something the mind has been
many times before
Before the key
to unlock the mind
is something the door will be
moving many times
.
Mayfly Study (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Mayfly Study (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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When we are young, we are like fledglings, depending on the those who are more mature to help us to do well and survive. However, at some point, we (if we are to really soar in life) have to leave the nest. As human beings, many of us never actually leave the nest; we continue to depend. We cling to the ideologies, patterns, religions, politics, traditions, and habits imprinted upon us by others; and so we never really independently soar. Most of us “feel safe,” nested in their ways and traditions. For human beings, however, true enlightenment is never merely within the circumscribed confines of a limited, little nest (or prepared space). Most of us are afraid to take the plunge, to let go of all the habits and traditions that we have been nesting in. Most merely cling to symbols, words, representations, ideologies, and learned concepts of (and including) a central “I”… and never ascend from being supposedly “safely nested” in those limited conceptions. That is why most never soar, and it is as simple as that.
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Hatched and Hatching. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Unhatched. Photo by Thomas Peace c.2015
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The understanding of how the universe functions doesn’t, interestingly enough, merely come about by way of a process.
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Tulip Study. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Tulip Study. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Before I retired, I used to (as a hobby) keep and breed macaws. Now that I’m older and retired, I have 3 pet parrots… two that are macaws, and one that’s a Yellow Naped Amazon.
Parrots make great pets but, because of their intelligence, you have to give them a lot of time and stimulation. In many ways, they are a lot like dogs… except they can talk. I exercise all of my birds daily… taking them out of their large cages and moving up and down with them many times (as I simultaneously exercise). They have their own high definition TV in their room, where they like to watch things like The Muppets, Sesame Street, and Rock’n Learn (learning/phonics) videos.
Their intelligence is phenomenal! Makes me glad I’m a vegetarian… though I realize that certain birds, like chickens, don’t even come close to the intelligence of parrots. There are many other intelligent animals, including pigs and dogs. Tweety Pie, the bird pictured here, talks in complete sentences. She creates and makes up her own sentences and has great comprehension. Some birds just mimic; others have comprehension. For example, when we put on our coats or jackets to go outside, Tweety would ask: “Are you going to go bye-bye now?” … or “Can I go too?” We never taught her those questions; she came up with them herself; she says them with the right intonation for a question. She sings complete songs, like the “Oh what a beautiful morning” song and other songs including one by the Backstreet Boys. (I don’t even know the lyrics to that Backstreet Boys song, thank goodness.) Once, when I was in the living room and couldn’t get the Playstation to work, she said, “What seems to be the problem?” I said, “I can’t seem to get the TV to work right.” She then said, “Can I help?” Something else! Last night I kept the birds up a bit late because I was cleaning aquariums in their room. On two separate occasions I told the birds that they could “sleep in late”… (by me not turning on lights or opening window shades until later in the morning); after each of the two times that I told them that they could “sleep in late in the morning,” Tweety Pie” said “Thank You”! The night before, I asked the birds about which video they’d like to watch; I said, “What do you want to watch… Children Singing, Sesame Street, or The Muppets?” Tweety said, “Muppets.” So The Muppets were put on.
I tried to do videos of Tweety, but she won’t talk in front of a camera (at all). Once, when I worked (before retiring), I recorded her conversations on an audio recorder, took it to work for people to listen to, and people were totally amazed. (I included a couple of YouTube videos here — of other people’s parrot friends — for people to see, so that they can observe just how intelligent these birds can be; the ones in the videos are not against being video recorded.) Many of these birds don’t just mimic. Some, especially, have great comprehension. One of our macaws, Scarlet, talks and has great comprehension. When I was younger, I took her to work with me (to my classroom for the multiply handicapped); she would sit on my lap in the car, as I was driving, and was perfect in behavior in the car and in the classroom. Sometimes Scarlet calls for me by name, saying “Tom, come here,” and Marla, my wife, says that it sounds like I have another wife! Just last night, I had been playing a learning-video for them about colors, shapes, and counting, and as they (on the video) demonstrated counting to ten; Scarlet then, after they got up to ten, said “eleven.”
(See the videos below. The one of the African Grey Parrot, named Einstein, is one of many; to see other of her – she’s a female – videos, do a YouTube search on “Einstein Texan Talking Parrot”; there are other videos of another bird, that’s a show bird, named Einstein… but I like Einstein from Texas best.)
Tweety Pie. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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In my birdhouse
we take shelter from the rain
In my birdhouse
we sleep well,without pain
In my birdhouse
we are safe from violent wind
In my birdhouse
we are born,we come in
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[Note: Birdhouses at my sister-in-law’s (Mary’s) and brother-in-law’s (Gary’s) place. They were constructed, homemade, by Gary…. painted by Mary.]
Birdhouse (4… At my sister-in-law Mary’s place.) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Birdhouse (3… At sister-in-law Mary’s place). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Birdhouse (2… At sister-in-law Mary’s place.) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Birdhouse (1… at sister-in-law Mary’s place). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
BURNT NORTON (by T.S. Eliot)
(No. 1 of ‘Four Quartets’)
I
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
II
Garlic and sapphires in the mud
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of stars
Ascend to summer in the tree
We move above the moving tree
In light upon the figured leaf
And hear upon the sodden floor
Below, the boarhound and the boar
Pursue their pattern as before
But reconciled among the stars.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.
The inner freedom from the practical desire,
The release from action and suffering, release from the inner
And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,
Erhebung without motion, concentration
Without elimination, both a new world
And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.
Yet the enchainment of past and future
Woven in the weakness of the changing body,
Protects mankind from heaven and damnation
Which flesh cannot endure.
Time past and time future
Allow but a little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time
But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,
The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,
The moment in the draughty church at smokefall
Be remembered; involved with past and future.
Only through time time is conquered.
III
Here is a place of disaffection
Time before and time after
In a dim light: neither daylight
Investing form with lucid stillness
Turning shadow into transient beauty
With slow rotation suggesting permanence
Nor darkness to purify the soul
Emptying the sensual with deprivation
Cleansing affection from the temporal.
Neither plenitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.
Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Desiccation of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
This is the one way, and the other
Is the same, not in movement
But abstention from movement; while the world moves
In appetency, on its metalled ways
Of time past and time future.
IV
Time and the bell have buried the day,
The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfisher’s wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world.
V
Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.
Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,
Not that only, but the co-existence,
Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still. Shrieking voices
Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering,
Always assail them. The Word in the desert
Is most attacked by voices of temptation,
The crying shadow in the funeral dance,
The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.
The detail of the pattern is movement,
As in the figure of the ten stairs.
Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always—
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
The Rose Garden. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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The space that apparently separates you from others is similar to what seems to separate the past from the future.
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Sunbathing (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Sunbathing (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Birds are a type of feathered dinosaur. Now many paleontologists are contending that all dinosaurs were feathered to some extent or another, just as all mammals have fur. Meat-eating theropod dinosaurs were very feathered, had stereoscopic vision and had chicken-like feet. They didn’t all go extinct after that massive asteroid impact. That asteroid was six miles across, and its impact was equal to the energy of 300 million nuclear weapons; it created temperatures hotter than on the sun’s surface for several minutes. If we don’t stop having wars and ruining the environment, we may well follow in the footsteps of those that didn’t survive. We need to do much better.
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Stereoscopic Vision. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Theropod-Dinosaur-like Feet. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Don’t fall into merely accepting hand-me-down thoughts, beliefs, and systems. If you do (absorb and become them), you’ll see what you are programmed to see… which (though seeming comfortable and safe) may not really be seeing whatsoever.
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Mostly Yellow. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Mostly Yellow. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Just because you are good does not mean that only good things will happen for (or to) you. True goodness is not for some later prize, but exists as its own effortless beauty. True goodness is far beyond the norm; it is beyond what “mostpeople” subscribe to and unexist as. True goodness involves an immense awareness that exists independent of group ideas, traditions, and values. The ideas, traditions, and values of others are often binding and limiting. True goodness, like real creativity, is causeless and effortless… and merely following the patterns of a system or group nullifies profound creativity and independence. Interestingly, true goodness does not merely cling to being in patterns of experience. Habitually clinging to “needing experience” is another form of dependence. A mind twisted up in psychological dependence and in habits is not capable, for the most part, of being intrinsically good. Goodness exists beyond descriptions and learned concepts. Most are unwilling to cut themselves off from dependence… dependence on governments, nations, religions, philosophies, ideals, hypnotic effects, learned concepts, experience, and false habits; therefore, real enlightenment and profound goodness eludes them. Only what is free, independently wise, and whole can be visited by what is immensely sacred and profound. It cannot, and will not, enter into what is distorted and corrupt.
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Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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When decent music is listened to, be not separate from the song; be the harmony… and though the song ends, let true harmony remain.
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A male Celebes Rainbowfish in a large, freshwater aquarium; this fish has continued to live for a very long time. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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May one’s heart blossom
to a true compassion
and a love
for nature
May one’s compassion blossom
to a true heart
and a nature
for love
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[Side Note: My wife, Marla, though there have been complications, continues to do much better, improving following her shoulder replacement therapy.]
Heart of the Sunrise. (From my sister-in-law Mary’s yard) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
I have not been blogging lately. The reason why is that my wife, Marla, had to have surgery recently. She had a total shoulder replacement done. I have not had time to do any blogging due to helping her with things. Perhaps I will be able to blog once in a while soon; we will see. The surgery went well… and she is recovering better than expected. Marla has a very delicate constitution and is extremely fragile. A lot of this has to do with the Wilson’s Disease that she has. Wilson’s Disease is a rare disorder; it is genetic and involves the inability of the body to metabolize copper. The copper can then act as a poison within individuals who are not properly treated for the disease. Related to the Wilson’s Disease, Marla has very severe neck dystonia… wherein her neck muscles become extremely tense and rigid; she gets botox injections to help treat the dystonia. For a long time, Marla was on penicillamine to treat the Wilson’s. However, that medication had so many side-effects that it was almost as bad as having the disease itself. Marla, likely due to the penicillamine, developed ARDS and almost died. Then she had to have neck surgery for collapsed neck vertebrae, a surgery that took 11 hours and caused her to have very limited swallowing ability. Now she mostly receives nutrition via a gastrostomy tube that goes to her stomach area. I help her with the enteral feedings and various things, and it is time consuming. These days, Wilson’s Disease is easily treated with zinc; the zinc has, fortunately, little or no side effects. Marla bravely contends with her physical problems; she often helps others (who have Wilson’s Disease or dystonia) to better understand things about those ailments; she, as a person, is as sweet as can be and is an extremely wonderful and very understanding person. I am honored to be married to her and want to make sure that she does well throughout the recovery process.
Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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The world is
The world is
becoming more
and more
insane and
insensitive;
but one
must remain
must remain
very sane
and
very sensitive.
Deep light
transcends
the darkness
and is…
and is
unaffected
by it.
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Grape Hyacinths (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Grape Hyacinths (2) (Color Pencil, Digital) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Peace is everyone’s responsibility. We must all go beyond violence and care for one another. One is different from, but not separate from, whom one perceives.
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I’m 63 years old and I’ve kept tropical fish ever since I was in the 5th grade. I even had an aquarium in my college dorms when I went to college. For a long time now, I’ve been keeping, raising, and breeding, various forms of miniature catfish called Corydoras (“Cory” catfish). In terms of peace, all of the species of the genus Corydoras are totally peaceful and non-belligerent; I have never, in all the years that I’ve had them, ever observed them acting aggressively or being hostile to one another, or toward other fish. I was taking photographs of my miniature Corydoras Reticulated Julii Catfish when I noticed them laying eggs. In the bottom photograph, the female is with a male (doing their thing); look closely at her bottom ventral fins; she is holding two eggs in those fins (as the fins are held together in a prayer-like fashion). Later (after they are fertilized) she will (carry them around for quite some time) and then secure them to plant leaves or upon the aquarium glass. (These catfish are definitely good for going green while keeping aquarium fish. They do not require aquarium heaters, and two separate aquariums can be maintained with a 4 watt air pump.) Corydoras are, like I mentioned, extremely peaceful… (plus they are beautiful and are always comical in their actions).
Trio of Corydoras trilineatus. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Corydoras trilineatus mating with eggs below clasped in female’s bottom fins. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Violet was a girl
with very few faults
she could sing and dance
and do somersaults
Violet was quite pretty
just as a flower
she loved to be in her garden
even during a shower
Violet blossomed in time
and loved to sun-bathe outdoors
she liked nature wild,
was never found in stores
All girls are Violets
in their own special way
they need never fear death,
while inevitably withering away
.
Wild Violet; one of many in the backyard. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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If you are melancholy and blue, transcend what you are. This can be done by, without method, being highly observant from moment to moment, without clinging to the methods, systems, and stale images that were seeded within (and “as”) you. If one often merely perceives with (and “as”) stale, redundant images that one constantly “recognizes” things with… then one is seeing what was taught; and that is the old, stale, antiquated, and musty “known.” Perceive without that dust-laden past… and one may see joyfully without merely just recognizing. That may bring real ecstasy. Then one won’t be blue any longer… unless one is an Indigo Bunting.
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Returning Indigo Bunting. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Mighty dexterous Dragon King
far back as the Carboniferous
heavy-bodied, strong flying,
adroit acrobat of the air
with iridescent soap-bubble-like wings
an aerodynamic, amphibious, predatory, territorial glider
who hunts on the wing
and who has to answer to
nobody
.
Dragon in his Lair. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Dragon in his Lair. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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To look, on a fine Spring Day,
at what you are not
from what you are…
takes an assimilated separation
of “me” and “not me.”
But that looking isn’t “looking”…
it’s merely repeatedly hurling what was absorbed.
To really look, on a fine Spring Day,
at what’s real,
is to look without separation,
without the gobbled “known.”
And that means looking
without the ingested “me” or “I”…
for otherwise, it’s habitually regurgitating
what was consumed.
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Together as one. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Together as one. (Color Pencil rendition). (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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We’re all flowers of that neverending tree
and if we don’t ever blossom
we won’t be open, wise, and free
None of us are separate within that immense, majestic being
but if perception doesn’t see it
it really isn’t seeing
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Eastern Redbud Study. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Eastern Redbud Study. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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many people want to wage war on them
many hate them
(really hate them)
see them as ugly
and want them eradicated
many insects want to enjoy them, live in them, and feed from them
many love them
(really love them)
see them as beautiful
and want them to flourish
.
Dandelion Study. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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the Heart of the Truth) flower
Rhythmically beats Blossoms
for
who(ever) is caring
enough
too
(Deeply Perceive
.
Heart of the Flower. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Profound love exists without a motive, especially a selfish motive.
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Polyporus squamosus – Dryad’s Saddle (Mushroom growing upon a Tree). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your reality. Either face reality as it really is or adhere to something false that will render you blind in the long run. That is the gist of it! (Facing reality as it really is involves looking without the accumulated past… involves not looking with what you were “taught.” Very few are willing or able to do that. To face reality as it really is involves there being no fear, no desire according to someone’s system and promises… involves looking very scientifically, but without hoarded conclusions and beliefs. Most feel naked and afraid without being clothed in accumulated beliefs, practices, methodologies, and conclusions.)
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Resting Fledgling. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Resting Fledgling. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Look deep within
for if you don’t
Blossoming will occur not
Unfold beyond conflict
for if you don’t
Timeless Passion will occur not
.
Pistil, Stamen, Petals. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Pistil, Stamen, Petals. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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eternity is not an “over there”
it’s a “right here” (or nowhere)
wisdom is not merely a memorized quote
it is (beyond words and what all the sages wrote)
going deep joyfully transcends a six line poem
cow pies in sunny pastures bake where bovines roam
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Deep in the foliage.(1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Deep in the foliage.(2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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His boss wanted to fire him because he was accused, by his coworkers, of moving at a snail’s pace.
“I realize that I’m a bit sluggish,” he exclaimed, while red with embarrassment.” He then said, “There are a lot of sluggards in my family, I know; we were brought up wrong, and some of us are trying our best to get out of the vicious spiral that we are in; please give me another chance.”
“Well, OK,” said his boss, with a straight face.
And so he happily continued in his job of cleaning the inside glass of aquariums… not once thinking that his job sucks.
[If you are still working for an employer, remember this little story, and realize that (in deep reflection) the observer may not be all that separate from the observed.]
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Red Ramshorn Snail. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Mankind needs to be far more gentle to this small, fragile planet!
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Wild Chicory. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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some minds are open
some minds closed
some are separated from the earth
some have deep roots within
some minds blossoming
some withering away
some sharing bright beauty
others darkly cruel
.
African Daisy, opening. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
African Daisy, opening. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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One may not like this, but it is true: Instead of taking vacations with polluting cars and planes, it is far wiser — and much more compassionate for nature’s sake — to stay local and not pollute.
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After a shower. (But showers can’t clean up everything.) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Two Haiku Poems… one from the Japanese poet, Issa (year 1822) and one from my (elderly) self (who likes to preserve plum tree scraps)…
***********************************
1822
.梅見るや梅干爺と呼れつつ
ume miru ya umeboshi jijii to yobaretsutsu
viewing plum blossoms–
they call old men
pickled plums
**********************************
In the blossomed Spring
plum trees recognized themselves
taking photographs
.
Plum Tree Blossoms. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Plum Tree Blossoms. (2) (Digital Color Pencil Rendition) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Do not lifelessly become merely what they want you to become; flower into something magically more true, unlimited, beautiful, and dynamic!
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Amazingly Different. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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As this is being read, is your posture correct? Correct posture is important, as is correct and orderly thinking.
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Turquoise Severum. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Turquoise Severum. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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I never left where I’ve always been
and I’ve always been where I never left
I never found what I always lost
and I always lost what I never found
I never thought where I’ve never been
and I’ve never been where thought never was
Where thought never was is where the real magic has always been
and the real magic has always been where thought never was
.
Flowers and me. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Flowers and me. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Listening to the babbling of a beautiful, nature-filled brook… rather than the babbling of stuffy, old politicians…
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Babbling Brook. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Babbling Brook. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Compassion and profound awareness are not two separate things.
.
Four Horned Jacob. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Four Horned Jacob. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
(Just a few days ago was the 150th anniversary of the night Abraham Lincoln was fatally shot by John Wilkes Booth.)
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the energy… it’s swirling,twirling
moving through the hand
of a man named Lincoln
some leader of a land
the play went on the gun was cocked
the killer took his aim
some say the twirling,whirling cells
could only move in vein
precise premonition lying listless
across a sordid balcony floor
as disbelief and shock called out
and raced through the narrow(minded) door
icy hatred’s revenge seldom is ever beautiful
as twirling life flows beyond perceptual range
warm grace lies beyond cold malice and vengeance
apprehension leaves,arrives, as the winds of change
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Stealth. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Stealth. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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If you are a diminutive jumping spider, by all means jump! Jumping is your life and calling card. If you are a human being, by all means jump with your legs and feet too (and exercise a lot). However, it would be prudent not to — like so many do — jump to conclusions. Jumping to conclusions often stifles the mind and often causes it to perceive things that are not legitimate and true. So many of us jump to conclusions. When we jump to conclusions… we are those conclusions. Being a conclusion may be rather dead and “unalive.” Go visit a cemetery; most of the people there (I’ll bet) probably came to conclusions! 😉
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Tiny Jumping Spider. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Tiny Jumping Spider. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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A furry ball, with legs,
mischievous, bandit-like,
omnivorous, curious, stalking,
walking in our area,
which is also his area,
our area,
his kind were here first,
in a way, we are the intruders,
bare-skinned, bipedal, tall,
like-wise mischievous, ape-like,
dangerous, stalking, stealing…
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Local Night Bandit. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Local Night Bandit. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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The whole realm of thinking is figurative, fragmentary, and of symbolic representations (that are conditioned). Don’t merely dwell in the field of the conditioned virtual. You can’t hug a concept of a child. Don’t — as so many do — mostly exist in (and “as”) symbols; symbols (as words and mental images) are mere tokens. Most, even when they look at the world, see with (and “as”) the patterns and symbols that they were taught. Look without separative symbols and learned images.
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Shadow of thinking. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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For the sacred to visit you and be palpable, your innocence must be discernible and unmistakable. That innocence must penetrate far beyond crude conventionality. That innocence stands alone and is different… not for the sake of being different, but because it perceives deeply beyond the ordinary.
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Open for business. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Open for business. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Truth (and the treasure) are not in your wallet… they’re in your heart.
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Probing for needed minerals. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Probing for needed minerals. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Open yourself to Spring
Let your mind blossom to unfold
Go beyond stale words and symbols
Look without that learned and stuffy past
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Open yourself. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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the world is but a flower
unfurling for an hour
and that hour is beautifully and infinitely long
as is the innocence of a little butterfly who can do no wrong
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Cabbage Butterfly. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Cabbage Butterfly. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Close to the dazzling ocean
I wanted to mentor them
each and every single,spraying drop
each and every friend
Inside the combative,clashing waves
I tried to comfort them
within endlessly flowing life currents
with end inside of begin
Deep within the winding forest
we shouted loud to them
but no human sounds were ever heard
nothing but bold,towering trees within
Inside each of the ever joyous trees
perennial,green life continues to grow
without neural networks of pain
without the need to know
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The journey is the destination. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
The journey is the destination. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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Mr. Average walked along in his very average way.
Mr. Average — according to his father — was born on a very average day.
Mr. Average, when he was young, went to a very average school.
Mr. Average, when in class, was around average with the breaking of the rules.
Mr. Average, within his mind, partook in an average degree of thinking.
Mr. Average, regarding his eyes (each day) blinked with around the average blinking.
Mr. Average, like most everyone around, saw his self as being separate and apart.
Mr. Average, when shopping with his wife, was a typical shopper at his local Walmart.
Mr. Average, regarding his diet, ate all of the typical meat.
Mr. Average lived in a rather typical American suburb and lived on a typical street.
Mr. Average, regarding his shape and weight, was not excessively round.
Mr. Average, regarding his thoughts and feelings, never felt anything profound.
Mr. Average, throughout his life, worked at a very average job.
Mr. Average, regarding living things suffering, was never inclined to sob.
Mr. Average, as a father, sent all of his children to an average school.
Mr. Average had around the normal degree of anger… when someone would call him a fool.
Mr. Average uttered the typical saying as he uttered his very last breath.
Mr. Average, when they hurriedly buried him, was interred at around the average depth.
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An average Cemetery Beetle (1). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
An average Cemetery Beetle. (2). Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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a microscopic mushroom
growing on a tree
is an umbrella for someone little
who is large with joy and free
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Micro-mushrooms in Moss. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Micro-mushrooms in Moss. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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we think we’re modern
but we’re not
we’re rather primitive and unrefined
and all the pundits in our world
don’t understand space and time
we think we’re free
but we’re not
our causes are all effects
and all the reactions that we’ll retake
are what spacetime already expects
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Pearl Crescent Butterfly. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
Pearl Crescent Butterfly. (2) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015
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