Are you allowed to fail?
Can one be great and also frail?
Is it wrong to go slower than a snail?
Some might say, “follow the trail”
Better yet, just wag your tail
Don’t dwell on things until they get stale
Tag Archives: Musings
Slightly Euphoric
I try to use words to encompass meaning. To better describe, I use more words. Sometimes I try to find the one word that would encompass all meaning. What would that word be? OM? Maybe, if I was a Hindu. So here we are again, describing the same uncertainty that a relativist view will always but unfortunately lead to. Yet here in the hopelessness of the problem, perhaps there is an answer. Not so much a “truth” that I can know is right. This answer is a different, more euphoric answer. I know it not. But as I reflect on it, I smile and I write. The moment will be fleeting. For as each blog post begins, surely it ends. My euphoria just like my pain; only temporary. But if I really knew this, I would know a “truth”. And as I said, I bear no truths… only an answer.
I am just a glider in Conway’s Game of Life.
饿鬼
When in hell, your only salvation is to know you are an 饿鬼.
Maybe then you would not cling to the breaking string that climbs to distant heaven.
Through what unimaginable odds would you have to endure until every 饿鬼, patient as yourself, waited for hell to empty up that string?
And if the string broke for the last one, your only salvation is to know you are an 饿鬼.
My contemplation of the short story, the Spider’s Thread.
Actaeon’s Haven
Anger, jealousy, resentment. All these things I have felt as I suffer through a world of two duals. To get the more favorable outcome only gives me temporary solace as I am drawn deeper into a game with no ultimate win. Yet to lose this game can be strangely liberating.
I am Actaeon. I have reached for the boon and have been destroyed. Now in my obliteration, looking only at the world as it is without any wish for something different, I am happy. I can smile at things for what they are. My mind is at peace. Yet the moment is brief. In a blink, I will again be playing, winning, losing, and returning here: Actaeon’s Haven.
A Creation Story
There was a time when Primordial Self had to take on the forms of man and woman to exist. I wonder if some force warned Self with a caveat of existence. A guardian of recreation who would say something like: “Gain the ability to be born once more and I guarantee you a cosmic infinite sea of death filled by the tears of your forgetting yourself.”
And there was poor Primordial Self with no idea who or when or where or why it was, but faced simply with the choice to continue. To this day this incarnation of Self has no idea. But if I had to defend my old actions and future ones as well to some higher guardian of the threshold, I would say: “By my actions an infinite sea of death and tears is filled, but on it’s surface floats a beautiful boat. Where on it sails, who can say? For whom does it rock sleepily in the waves?”
And if I was God?
How often do people wish for something out of their reach? Well, if they but had the power to grab it, surely they would. To what end would they bring their conquest of will? Palaces and luxuries would seem trifle to them for they would have immortality and eternal control. How dualistic…
And if I was God? Would I have it differently? In a world of two extremes, I might be as guilty. But if I was God, who is to say that I would see past this folly with my great wisdom? I would trick my dualistic nature into a prison of discernment: making him think that he was a self that suffered in a world of others. Everything would be as it was now, and I would be realized not in one piece of the grand scheme, but in its entirety. So, if I was God, I would be writing about being God as Daniel Bank, not realizing that I was, in fact, God.
Delta Function
δ
fn.
is a
base
grows
upward
many mps
while yet
falls away
but i stand
atop seeing
– righteously –
and how high i am
isnt determined
by the height of it
but by how far i see
Tir Na Nog
A feeling had on chance occurrences meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex.
That moment before love collapses onto sad space time coordinates of life
That instant when I first looked upon your radiant face.
Pipa
Rustic pipa wails a lonely tune.
I cry because that is who I am.
Flowing. Lonely. Fleeting. Now gone.
Was there not some freedom between those sacred frequencies?
Or was it only suffocated by the surrounding silence.
The Boogar Chronicles 
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