When life hands you lemons, plant an orchard and start a citrus import/export business.

We continue the experiment on time/heat-released dissoluble, transdermal patches built into athletic socks and that control biorhythms.

A nod to the painted faces last night – great team support by fans!

As 2011 progresses, I ask myself what I am to do with myself.

Past the skin barrier, where does self end?

Or, for that matter, where does self start?

Am I a self-starter?

Every generation thinks it’s the first and the last.

I know better because I do not exist.

Therefore, although it would be a hearty suggestion, I’m not going to go around convincing subdivisions/housing estates to erect art sculptures at every entrance in order to help support “thinking outside the box” that art is supposed to start.

I just watch and listen.

Let the shepherds have their sheep.

On galactic scales, we’ll disappear soon enough.

Life has become so much more enjoyable after I let myself accept I’ll be dead and forgotten but giving care and attention to those I can without making extraordinary effort (“do until others undo you”):

Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy. — Joseph Campbell [Read more: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/joseph_campbell.html#ixzz1Gb5ZsTJt]

Our yard is my homage to the natural world, including invasive, nonnative species competing with native species to capture my attention, especially in spring, with crocuses, daffodils, vinca, marsh marigold, trillium and violet blooms in full display; squirrels, chipmunks, chickadees, hawks, crows, cardinals, snails, lizards, spiders, roaches, lichen, moss, and mushrooms at work/play.

I am neither peacenik nor warhawk, I repeat, but troubleshooter and solution seeker.

Like Hermann Hesse, I don’t know which of the many doors in the Magic Theatre to walk through.  Life is a series of macabre, as well as normal-looking, opportunities for decisionmaking.

A temporary conflux, I am here to represent the universal that flows through me (like it flows through all of us as states of energy within the current version of the universe that we see it in this moment together).

I will not compete with what others call their visions for the future.

All I can do is follow the path that hindsight/foresight reveals to me in real-time.

Go with the flow.

Let private property rights’ opponents, both in ownership and in disagreement over the right of private property, work out their differences.

After all, I don’t own the universe nor it me.  I type words in my thoughts that somehow make a little bit of sense on the electronic display in front of me.

If the environment in which I exist is not conducive to healthy thought patterns, is there a conducive environment and  do I have the fortitude/energy to move into that shared space?

If temptation is an illusion of subcultural training (i.e., a byproduct or negative consequence of a subculture’s preferred behaviour set), then what are the behaviours I prefer to nurture within the states of energy that are me, knowing I am a product of a mixture of subcultures because none of us live in a vacuum (although some are fairly well isolated socioculturally)?

If sanity is an illusion based on unwritten formulae for group normality conformity, and I care little about the definition of normality because it does not exist, why do I find a fairly benign public persona to project to others socially?

I have nothing to hide/protect although I care about comfortable companionship with others.

A chameleon confirming others’ beliefs, letting them keep their illusions intact.

Some days I want to expose the illusions and some days I enjoy playing along.

I neither hate nor love my subcultural training – my states of energy are in their shared condition because of my background/upbringing – I will neither condemn nor praise my past, illusionary though it may be.

Stick to the moment because my memory is false and filtered like official historical tales.

The alternate universe of a blog is, to remind myself, a manipulable entity to help me discover what it’s truly like to be part of a universe at play in the moment; that way, I never have to care about the difference between imagining what’s real and what’s not real.

This moment passes and then the next moment passes.  That’s as real as it gets these days.