Beyond Physics

This Buddha is made of pewter. I have had him for decades. I found him (or should I say he found me?) in Chicago where I was born and lived until I moved to Maryland in 2005.

He is always with me. He has gone wherever I have gone. And I have traveled to many places, both physically, and throughout the mind, knowing I am nothing more than a drifter along its surface. Still, I attempt to connect the threads, like a spider would, while knowing this is an exercise in futility.

This Buddha is as constant as I am devoted to him. He easily fits into the palm of my hand, and his location is always precise, exact. He never veers away from the middle.

But now that I have stepped into the last chapter of life, and I am in a space, filled with everything I love, Buddha is now anchored between the world inside and the world outside of my window where the sun sets. But there has been a subtle shift that defies the laws of physics and which I am unable to explain. He has adjusted his focus towards the northwest.

At first, I thought I had done something, that I was somehow responsible for this shift, this adjustment. But my pattern has been consistent. Shortly after I awaken, I say: “Good morning, Buddha.” Then I stroke the crown of his head, delighted to see the smile on his face, the fullness of his belly, and go about the ritual of waking up to yet another day. 

Nonetheless, I continued to grapple with this puzzle as a scientist would.  I measured the shifts. They were frequent, and seemed beyond the scope of probability. Further, every time the shift occurred, I would re-center him, while keeping track of the cycle, and continued to ask: Could this shift be nothing more than an subtle act on my part, or could it be something more esoteric, beyond my comprehension?  What role did I play?  It was entirely possible that no-one other than myself was the author of what appeared to be a mystical experience, but which was, in fact, nothing of the kind. Perhaps I had a skill unbeknowst to me as a Magician?  But I did not trouble my already troubled mind much longer with this puzzle, and so I let it go. And in doing so, I was now free. Free to fly beyond the sky.

(Note: This is one of those pieces that will keep shifting until it finds its way home. In the meantime, let it take you wherever it is that you go — even if that place is nowhere.)

 

 

 

 

 

Diagnostic Statistic Manual Needs A New Presciption To Describe What Tunnel Vision Obsessed Them To See Human Behavior In A Profoundly Limited Piece Of Fabric

You gotta admit. Something is not right up there? They construct full mosaics of people and strip them of their authenticity as humans. This is utter nonsense.  
HM
Who are these fools who have been in Medical School for 8 years – 
And, this is it? 


This is the product of their knowledge?  


Playing with scissors and construction
 Paper?

What Freedom Looks Like To Me (Photography)

Yesterday was a monumental day for me. And so my friend, Jessica, and I celebrated in an appropriate fashion. I danced. I balanced on a precarious wall. I saw beautiful and convoluted versions of Nature. –

JESSICA AND I   JESSICA DOES THE “BETTY” POSE. 

   HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF A PICNIC TABLE

  REFLECTIONS. CLOUDS ABOVE AND BELOW LETTING MY HAIR HANG

  THE WALL ON A LAKE

  THE IMPERFECT ARABESQUE 

   LOOKING UPWARD

  SAYING GOODBYE TO THE PAST

  

Finally. 
 

Bunny Rabbits And The Church Across The Street From Me

It’s Easter on a busy street.
Cars come and go, blaring music, or not.
But one would ever know there is a church across the street from me.
Attached to the other buildings on the block, it’s radically different architecture, blends in with its neighbors.
The Artist and his dog live next to the church in a building just like it (except for colors, shape and height.)
It’s a busy spot on the street.
The lights go on at night
When gatherings occur
And feelings of love and God are shared.
A warm spot for the soul.
But today!
Today is Easter.
The industrial strength restaurant diner door lists hours of service and other stuff.
The door is swung open.
People, coming and going.
Matriarchs and angelic children
Pure of heart and soul – appear.
But they are slow.
And late.
They are always late.
Never on time.
The building could be a bloc from Mondrian …
But anyway.
The only reason I know today is Easter is because a sales person from Nordstrom’s accidentally mentioned it.
“Good thing you came today” she said. We’re closed tomorrow.”
“You are?
Why?”
“It’s Easter.”
“Oh.
Bunny rabbits.
Stuff like that.
Okay.
Thanks, again!”