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Paradise Reincarnating

There is a hope among my people

that after life may be as we most wish

our hope of peaceful dreams fulfilled.

 

We call this hope Paradise,

Beloved Community,

for some an Edenic Garden of

permacultured polycultural

color-dense absorbent nutrients,

mutual succulence

of sight

and touch

and sound

and fragrant mind and time balanced graciously,

richly hued and tasted.

 

It seems important to incarnate this dream

now

where we are

with whom we are,

our Self and our Other right relationships,

and our normative awareness of Original Intent.

This mouthful is our mindful.

 

To live actively and peacefully toward that future

we would most hope to continue

to remember

to reincarnate

to pass from still toward bi-sonic reweaving

on the other side of this potentiating incubator.

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Fun Home

For Robin Williams

 

This seems a funny time to die

right when everything stops working,

play disappears

with terminal humor.

So, is anyone left out there?

Is anyone home

devouring the last bite of this American pie?

 

I often laughed til I cried

addicted tears of joy

for faith in where we meet

our longing just to join.

 

I cannot belong here anymore.

Incarnation pulls and tears

addicted to this power of faith

we belong back together,

a jigsaw puzzle cast astray

with no pieces missing

except me, somehow

sometimes

some place?

 

Where is my place

when spacetime greys to fog

enclosing colored laughter

in joyless tomb of  mutual decomprehension?

 

This could be a happy time to die

a final song to reach front page

screaming waves of not so solemn

remembering

religioning

togathering Earth and Sky,

death with hope,

tear flowing night

of dark ecstatic be-longing.

 

If I could,

it it would be enough for you,

I would burn my soul

to reach you.

Could we laugh our soul

to teach us once belong a time?

 

Good morning, america…

this seems a funny time….

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Sensical Octaves

I see this dance of color

ringing song of mind

shared grace

for all to see and hear

measured ultravioletly.

 

We hear our song of praise

dancing colors prove shared minds.

If we never see each other

do we hear more ultravioletly?

If we never hear each other

do we forget to see full color?

 

When pyramids of waving sighs

greet milky cultures in dispray

they tend to stick together

breathing in

then out

to learn to hear in color

then see what all the shouting is about.

 

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Yin Then Yang Then Back Again

Life concaved inside

Convexing beauty

Harmonious in as out

 

Female

Male

Bigenderive mindfulness

 

Redeeming

Love

Graced Ecoyeast regenerating

 

Negative

Positive

Diametric binomial meta-versed

 

Peaceful stasis

Faithful diastolic succulence

Positive purposed Original Intent

 

Gratitude for Other

Hope for  EcoOther balancing identity

Faith in Other as confluent NotEcoSelf,

sparks Love for Self as EarthTribing.

 

Original graced incarnating within

Robust compassioned love without

Mindful polycultured compost

of PermaCulturing Design.

 

ReGenerating = copredicating prehensile predicament

Globally Coincident Comprehensiving

 

 

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Taoist Commons of Perma-Passioned Design

Mindful justice and compassion emerge together, not necessarily compassion from justice, or justice from compassion–both evolve together in each culture, like a culture growing across time.

Both justice and compassion emerge from essential human relationships of equity and balanced power with Other, anchored in the universal (0) soul we share, in the same sense that we share RNA across all living cells. Compassion and justice are most abundantly incarnated when they remain balanced between confluence and diversity. Too much confluence breeds totalitarianism; too much dissonance brings a level of individualistic human entitlement enculturation that results in our marginal comfort/discomfort controversies about power deposits, inequities, “power-over” intentions, and concentrated marginalization, and growing inequities, concerns about the future and “hidden” agendas of competitive, exclusionary intent, slowly emerging from their closets.

By way of contrast with this cacophony, our diverse and healthy “Commons” permaculture leans toward cooperative solidarity and inclusiveness when planning, and designing, and using, and harvesting, and planting, and maintaining ecosystems. Abundant healthy “private” culture leans toward self-challenging, stretching solidarity, a type of interdependent diastasis within an encultured spacetime-string. Solidarity and team-building are normative for the Permaculture Generation when planning our messages, homes, and vocations. Our Formative Principle of Polycultural Complementarity includes the functional optimization process beginning with mindful awareness (noticing), yielding facilitation, yielding mentoring, yielding replication, yielding positive-cooperative subordination to the Commons we regenerate together.

In PermaCultural Design, aboriginal cultures, metaphysics, teleology and theology, there is this question, or expectation, usually implied, of Original Intent. This question is more primordial, assumed, enthymematic to the question of life’s meaning or purpose. Original Intent goes back to mindfully discerning the infrastructure of meaning and the purposes we practice, and learned prior to our bicameral capacity for ethical intelligence.

Dr. Robert Norton (Communication & Consequences: Laws of Interaction) refers to the communication of our own Original Intent as enthymematic communication; it is richly, even optimally, effective and nutritious for building and maintaining relationships. Enthymematic means before the syllogism, or meme, or language. It is positively and integrally predicated without having historical explanatory (deductive) support. Without it, no hope for positive relationship emerges. This enthymematic Original Intent  diastatically embraces/embues a word, a message, with efficacy–the power of potentiated relationship. The projected right message for the right person at the right moment balances hope for future confluent response with positive teleological faith in a (0)-centric +SelfIdentity = (-)OtherIndividuation dipolar complementarity (see Julian Jaynes on the ethological and evolutionary function of symbol and language development; also David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous).

Analogically conflating these diverse paradigms, they each suggest that the Original Intent of information and creation is gratitude as the essential response to the possibility, the hope, the grace the karma of positive/confluent relationship, connection, having a new power with Other. The opposite of gratitude can be non-violent intent, but lead to dissonance, dismay, and even violence within spacetime practice.  Violence and gratitude are mutually defining appositionals, as are confluence and dissonance, Yang and Yin, justice and compassion. Enthymematic communication is rooted in active hope and peace toward confluent power with another. Rich dialogical encultured strings of communication are positively expressed; radiating minimal  negative implications, assumptions, reaction, or intent. They tend to inclusively sweep in their analogical value family–similar models, metric systems of measurement and calculation, design elements, gestalts, coincidental scientific paradigms, and arts and humanities paradigms, into a re-ligioning constellation of Permacultural Enthymematic Awareness, graced ecologies of compassion underlie ecological economies of justice, yield further graced ecologies of positive hope, then faith, then love, then global positive teleological comprehension of what our shared vocation has always been; what was originally intended.

Our positive ethical value system is rooted in the hope of mutual gratitude; active abstinence averse to dissonant violence, emerging from aptic non-violence [kind of a precameral positive-neutral-withdrawn position; the opposite of synaptic–see Julian Jaynes on the evolution of self-awareness out of an original undifferentiated aptic awareness, emotively and integrally (0)-value-centric  +/- neutral.] While non-violent communication is an important step toward inclusive effectiveness, recognizing its more explicated, positive, expression as active-peace (rooted in mutually prehensive grace) brings hope that my flowers are “Other’s” eisegetical flowers and “Other’s” weeds are exegetically known, mutually understood, as “my/our weeds.” We do our best when we all see our mess as doing the best we can to leave the mess behind.

Original Intent in human terms is gratitude. Original Intent in physical regenerative, creative, terminology is increasing harmony, or confluence, or therapy; which also decreases disease, dissonance, toxins, pathology, irrational anomaly, Left-brained dominance, but only to the point where the values of harmony and inclusive diversity are equally expressed as the bond of compassionate fairness, the best we can do within the relative imbalance of currently informed (+) Binomial RealTime, within (0)-soul Vector/Vortex Universal Magnetic Balanced SpaceTime. This is our positive teleological pilgrimage toward ecological and economic equity, where all polynomial information (P) equals implicated reverse-appositional predicated, but currently impossible to RealTime incarnate due to analogical irrationality, lack of confluent temporal-affective Codex  (NP).  We exegetically share these NP weeds and watering them is what we call insanity.

My family is stressed by the constant in-my-face neediness, in-my-ears loudness, in-my-heart oppositional expression of the Fetal Alcohol communication system with whom we live. The house shakes as she bounces hour after hour.

On the other hand, we also have the contrary grace of Angelman’s syndrome in our youngest son’s special practice of living in the present, not judging, but accepting with gratitude the presence of his family as a primal source of nurturing within his aptic nest of non-linguistic awareness. He is our resident guru of gratitude, nurturance, and well-being. When our daughter’s Fetal Alcohol is too much, we do well to spend extra time with my son’s ever-confluent presence, and do as he does.

Even so, too much internalizing of Yin-son’s aptic awareness could lead to an entropic state of hibernation, to affective withdrawal rather than the continual oscillation between the graced positive ecology of awareness and our genetic learning toward a re-balanced fair Commons of active tribal and globally-speciated peace. Learning to fly together, rather than fall, apart.

 

 

 

 

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Guilty Nature

I prefer my wild quite tame

and have no one to blame

that this is so

except my I

who carries shame across spacetime

to incarnate me with guilt.

 

The “I” We hoped to be

was as wild as yeast

still free of human domesticity

and with this dream of noble savage gone

I’m left with guilt

for giving up on youth’s hoped for “I,”

a part of We

immersed in wild diastatic

undomesticated freedom flight

from shame

toward becoming who I am

as EcoWe.

 

I prefer my tame quite wildly

shy of guilt

to find such goodness

in my speciated crazy quilt.

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Functional Human Family

Real life is a graced ecology

in which we learn compassion

for Self and Other-EcoSelf

by growing in mindfulness

of Self as integral to Other,

and vice versa.

 

Growing in positive mindfulness

can feel more like work camp

than a peace-filled Paradise Ashram.

 

When I comprehend

Work Camp is the Trimtab,

trim-the-fat,

tipping point

purgative learning invitation

toward enlightened love full-promised,

then perfect compassion occupies my mind.

Longing sweeps in toward universal belonging.

 

When life together feels like

monolithic Boot Camp,

and not so much Campy Play

and it seems no way

it could ever feel another way,

then I mindfully reverse

so it looks like

sure-footed positive intent toward

compassionate campus of soulful practice

with each of us all day

OR positive intent becomes shared vocation

to help each other understand

when this golden feeling evaporates

and why

and how we might help each other

more mindfully approach our messy dysfunctions together,

a functioning natural family

called “human” nature.

 

If human life,

and other natural systems,

feels more like a root canal

than gold-capped stress relief,

then water the memories of past gold caps

by imagining how this root canal

already builds toward your sustainably

healthy tooth

in the mouth of this well-fed community

living in polyculturing planet’s

positive potential Eternal Moment.

 

 

 

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Angelic Loss

Where is the boy

who laughs at rain,

stares past grey clouds

wandering why so blue

our sky

our sea-salt tears

of sense-filled pain?

Where is this boy?

 

He never said goodbye.

This boy went on to make his way alone.

He had no choice

or so he thought

with stardust gray bright eyes.

 

Where is this man

whose passion cries with pain

for who we could be,

should be?

Where is this redeemer

who stares past sun

wondering why so black

behind each face

of human place

sleeps deep inside with strain.

 

Where is my place,

my time in space

to see your eyes

glint through dark clouds

to wrap your face in mine?

 

When is our time

to rise with shining blue night song,

to dance our way toward where we were

before we lost our minds,

to when we were a white cloud day

to  play our work

and work our play.

I loved our eyes

that laughed at rain because we had each other.

 

Where is that man who was a boy

whose place was time

we could not spend forever?

He flew apart with wings outspread

too young to learn we only fly together.

 

If we could stop this time to live apart,

I’d find a place where time could find you

holding us forever;

through time to fly

and then to die to fly again

together.

 

Dedication: for Jerome, and boys who love angels

7/26/2014

 

 

 

 

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Face to Face Reweaving

I remember feeling special

hoping for a path beyond the Law of reason

with shamanic powers

to grasp and change

and save myself,

my family from death,

uninvited decay and dissonance.

 

Owl came to whisper

“Shaman-child, be born again”

I was afraid to die with Her.

Purgation feels wrong and putrid,

an offense to creating hope and faith.

This death would be too common

for my Self-potential Shaman.

 

Bear came to teach me

hibernation’s coincidental embrace,

and not death.

My cave of fear is where I sleep

until spacetime is ready

to call forth one of her eternal pearls.

One among all, each with our place

and time to shine

smooth-structured

fluid,

a reincarnating pearl

well-strung strong

in harmonious round octave

to carry forth our future

pearl of paradise.

 

Yet still I want and wait and balk and fear

disgraced ungrateful,

ungraced disgrateful,

wishing victory for my silent cave

of dark potential integrity.

If I could make it so

I would,

to call out Spring of hope at last

our season of regenesis,

but are we ready?

So still I wait and balk and fear.

I confuse my faith

with our self-consciousness.

 

Raven calls the Shaman call

within Elder cave’s cell-consciousness;

regenesis is always near

between tomorrow and right now.

We are only this integrity,

Eternal Moment’s potentiality

toward vast polyculturant affection

through present’s winnowing comparison

with past negative effects.

Shared black silo of fearful smothering

alone without relationship to space or time.

Turn around.

Our positive pilgrimage rises convexly,

together toward expanding solidarity.

 

With obedient trepidation

I face about to face the face

Other knows about,

with timid voice, I hesitate,

“Does the Shaman assembly accept your verdict?”

 

It’s not my place to speak this way

but silence screams back to me

“Okay.”

 

More confident with building hope

“Does our shamanic assembly accept our verdict?”

Again the reconnecting cave of reconciliating

silent wisdom string

stretching back through cultured history of pearls.

 

Incarnating faith,

with graceful dance of presence,

“Do we accept present integrity

of future’s positive promise?”

I sing our dance

reechoing strings of eco-normic pearls

toward future’s present past.

 

Permacultured pearls prance prescient presence.

 

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The G.M.O. on Fracking

Fracking,

somewhat alliteratively,

is fucking Earth dry

without invitation.

We also call this rape,

in other contexts,

and aggravating assault.

 

Rape,

in this context,

assumes we have our ownership rights,

as this ego self-centered

and short-sighted Species,

owns our Earthship in fractured pieces,

to whimsically repeat this rapacious assault,

we also call slavery

and using Mom as if She were The Bombed Whore.

 

GMOing Earth

simultaneously

neuters Her

because She’s only abundantly economized

as a fucking commodity anyway.

 

 

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