Thursday, March 5, 2015

Nishida Kitarou

The famous Path of Philosophy in the great Zen city of Kyoto is named such because Professor Nishida used to walk there in meditation, contemplating ways to connect Western and Japanese philosophy.

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Saturday, February 28, 2015

Who Are You?

Perception isn't truth

Freedom is the will and power to change perception

Her exoskeleton solidifies
With each mistrust and act
Against all things genuine

His extrasensory perception,
Aware outside of language,
Sees her,
an entity of conscious evil

She presents herself with class and grace
Though her motives are for self
And material

He is pure

Her extrasensory perception knows it
And pounces

All elves aren't benevolent

All inexplicable realities aren't divine

In this moment

Who are you?

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Fwd: Email Posting

I just discovered posting directly by email and want to try it out. I'm hoping it will improve productivity and eliminate the feeling that I have to hide my screen at work. Everyone needs downtime at the office and I'd like to spend more of mine writing. Why is it OK to spend break time consuming news or Facebook fluff, but it's odd or even frowned upon to pass the lunch hour producing creative works or exploring ideas that often appear and disappear in the mind without first brushing up against another consciousness? Here's to evolving the daily routine that I may one day get to evaporate with the flame that lights and guides my hope of an even more simple, self reliant, mindful, compassionate and soulful future.

Monday, February 16, 2015


Madhouse. Never have I seen so many tears and red faces at work. A school sits in shambles, near crumbling, while the teachers hold onto their careers like a weary Pacific fisherman whose boat's being steered by the end of his line into colder, less certain waters. They talk about hard work, but that doesn't exist here. This is the madhouse of bureaucracy, the place of scheduling, jargon, and the checking of checklists. Call it something, just not hard. It's not that the soul should exist here. It shouldn't. It can't. The soul has no interest in spending its time here. The heart's center lives free out there. The window that looks out from my classroom reveals nothing more than a reflection of the one soul, taunting me (us?) to take a (the?) courageous leap into itself, a leap that we must all take, a receipt of our validity to the universe, to the watchers behind the veil, whisperers in the transdimensional darkness, elves out of time, our final products with keen perspective. This school, no matter its mission statement, narrows existential viewpoints and stagnates grand progress. Madhouse.

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