6.

Or trace the river of life that flows through you,
the luxuriously rising energies,
Gradually kissing each of the centers along the spine,
Savor each particle of color along the way.

Enter each area tenderly, loving as you go
and then finally, gently
dissolving in the crown of the head.

WE SHALL FILL INNOCENCE WITH THE STRENGTH WE HAVE SO LONG BEEN LACKING

WE SHALL NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN

WE SHALL FLEE REST 

WE SHALL FLEE SLEEP

WE SHALL OUTSTRIP DAWN AND SPRING

AND WE SHALL FASHION DAYS AND SEASONS TO THE MEASURE OF OUR DREAMS.

~Kundera

The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Instead of Wasting Time we'd have Eachother.

Radiant as the morning sun (5.)

Follow the path of the radiant life force
as she flashes upward like lightning
through your body.

Attend simultaneously
to the perineum, that bright place between the legs,
to the crown of the skull,
and to that shining star-place above the head.

Notice how this living electricity becomes ever more subtle
as she rises, radiant as the morning sun
until she streams outward from
the top of the head into all-embracing gratitude.

Thus become intimate with the life of all beings.

eternal time

yoko

baby gini

I LOVE YOU.

Mystery Magic Makers

Robert Rauschenberg

October 22, 1925 – May 12, 2008

(is it not so very mysterious that he died almost a year ago....?)

I don't think of myself as making art. I do what I do because I want to, because painting is the best way I've found to get along with myself.

(I imagine a whole house just like this)

“It is neither Art for Art, nor Art against Art. I am for Art, but for Art that has nothing to do with Art. Art has everything to do with life, but it has nothing to do with Art,”

Radiance Sutra 4

In any quiet moment when you are breathing,
the breath may flow out and pause of itself,
or flow in and pause of itself.
There experience opens into an exquisite vastness
with no beginning and no end.

Embrace that infinity without reservation.
Dive into it, drink deeply of it and emerge renewed.

unto thee i by: e.e. cummings   unto thee i  burn incense  the bowl crackles  upon the gloom arise purple pencils  fluent spires of fragrance  the bowl  seethes  a flutter of stars  a turbulence of forms  delightful with indefinable flowering,  the air is  deep with desirable flowers  i think  thou lovest incense  for in the ambiguous faint aspirings  the indolent frail ascensions,  of thy smile rises the immaculate  sorrow  of thy low  hair flutter the level litanies  unto thee i burn  incense,over the dim smoke  straining my lips are vague with  ecstasy my palpitating breasts inhale the  slow  supple  flower  of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee  unto  whom i  burn  olbanum