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Shaman Circle

Bell invites,

No gratitude in hearing resonant

flowing waves of graciousness,

as if I struck shit.

 

Life invites,

No gracefulness in seeing

EcoSelf’s Moment unfolding

with “I don’t have time!”

(I am time, apparently)

 

Universe blossoms into seedlings,

no gravity in feeling

Regenerating Tree’s fractal Seasons

with “I really don’t like winter!”

(no adventure without some advent)

 

Shamans gather,

No wisdom in knowing

magnetic synergy’s Tipping Point Transition

with Wow! Sky is falling!

(hope mine isn’t.)

 

Permacultured Opera,

full-throttled incarnating response

to richly resonant karmic heart and breath

silently,

throbbingly waiting,

joyful celebrated paradise,

presents (0)-soul balancing rhythmic dance.

 

Bells go off

when co-invited

co-incidenting

regeneratively,

at least in theory.

 

Logos invites Myth;

Myth reveals

Tao of Informating-Myth.

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Infometric EcoSystems: Tegmark meets Fuller

By Max Tegmark – Our Mathematical Universe: My Quest for the Ultimate Nature of Reality (12.8.2013)
I appreciated Tegmark’s growing awareness of scientific research as a cooperative enterprise. It reminds me of Gregori Perelman’s reasons for disappearing into the metaphysical universe of anonymity after rejecting the Clay Millennium Math Prize for what became the 0-soul theorem.

Going back a bit further into the history of metric systems as reality and as metaphysics, I was disappointed to not find any relationship between Tegmark’s double hypothesis and the earlier work of Buckminster Fuller’s “Synergetics,” Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking in turn rooted in Euler’s understanding of metric systems as not so much about numeric symbols and forms, but about function. Fuller recognized both physical and metaphysical universes sharing a (0)-Core Vector, or Vortex, in a verb-functional relationship, and potentially rational, Whole System Universal Intelligence. So, I was surprised that Tegmark modeled and analogized about a universal metric stability, unchanging structures, rather than potentially regenerative when fractally wave-functioned, within a 4-equidimensional Information System, following Einstein’s 4-prime dimensional equi-valent assumption.

In Fuller’s field, or stage, theory of synergetic regenerativity, information explicates, emerges and sustains, our Physical Universe, just as a “Dark” exformed-implicated reverse-trending magnetic-ergetic wave frequency implicates our bicameral Metaphysical Universe. As without, so within, but right-brain cognized as an unraveling negative-reversed-film-fading icon of sensory memory. While this remains a conjecture, there is an appealing aesthetic quality to its thermodynamic and magnetic wave trend balance, with information synergetically wrapping into a physical universe string, composed of intertwined solar system strings, composed of planetary threads, and this one, called Earth, more recently pushing out a double-elliptical binomially-balanced DNA self-regenerating string.

All these string-systems are teleologically imaged as unraveling in reverse-implicated temporal wave streams of exformation. Perception yielding understanding, yielding paradigm development of raveling/unraveling relationship conjectures across rhetorical/relational/culturally-bound specialized languages and gestalts, intertwining toward theories, and theories emerging into prime relationship universal principles of emergently co-prehensile [comprehensive coincidental] systems.

I am disappointed that Max Tegmark has apparently missed the geometrics and the Universal Intelligent design of Bucky Fuller. This conversation would be a more synergetic read, and a read of this synergy might emerge as a scientific cultural Trimtab–greatest effectiveness with least anomaly or dissonance. Perhaps, underlying the other laws of thermodynamic/magnetic waving and stringing about, is the proto-historical teleological assumption that the Prime Law, or First Systemetric Principle, is the Law of Thermodynamic Balance, where + = (-)(-), and +Polynomials in any n-dimension = (-)Polynomials OR spacetime geo/biometrics are intrinsically irrational and dissonant without sustainable systemic formation, function, wave frequencies, or bicameral/binary/binomial balance.

In a balanced and positive teleological formation trend, metric form is to function, as +/- function is to positive/informative and negative/exforming frequency trends. All of this within a (0)-soul vector(+P)/vortex(-P) smooth-structured self-regenerative double-elliptical torus. Imagine a self-perpetuating tree-information system in which informative nutrients develop richly nutritious seeds that fall down into the soil providing enthymematic nutrients for the tree’s magnetic-south trending (implicating tendrils reaching down into the fertile rich soil) root system. What is positive for the root system is also positive trending for the leaves and blossom development.

So I guess the greatest sustainable effect for this +/-(0)Prime Relationship infometric development system is to water the flowers of cooperative intent and mindfulness, while listening with wisdom to the weeds of competitive paradigmatic monocultures, information silos of specialization, hoarding fatty wealth deposits, and lack of intent to communicate back through the wisdom of our elders and colleagues for the Continuous Quality Improvement of future generations.

Tegmark seems better at balancing ethical values than he is at balancing metric values and functions. And, if I had to choose which is most important to learn about, I would choose his flowers over his weeds.

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Sibling Tree

What will happen next?

she said.

And why.

he asked,

and so it went all day.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“And why?” he said.

 

Let’s climb a tree and learn it home;

safe place to grow a branch for flight

to fly through night and dream all day.

To pretend at work,

not work to play.

 

Why screw around?

Is flight not real?

And working play feels play-full

when trees are true

and branches balance birdnests

floating toward this stringish green-field Earth.

 

I fear what will happen next

she asks.

And why

he says.

and so it goes through life.

“What’s next?” she fears.

“And why?” he fails to reassure.

 

Let’s build a house high as the sky.

We’ll play on clouds and they on us

til vegeburgers rain like cars

too fast to find us

high above this tangled weedish plot.

 

Clouds feel good for rest

but not for forts.

The sun burns clouds like cars burn trees.

Let’s fall beneath a flower pot

and kiss her rooted tendrils

to grow full measured

good and true and real and wondrous

shade trees gracing fertile plots.

 

What will happen next?

she asks.

And why? he asks again.

And so it goes.

What’s next…

Why?…

 

Dedication: To Kerry

7/13/2014

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SelfViolating Peace

Present loss.

Loss of presence

while noticing your glance

of hope for fusing future limbs

from endless snubs,

blind ignorance and future loss predicted.

Glancing glimpse of futures fading

into waste of presence,

present loss.

 

A paradox,

naked being

robbed of hiding

robed with coming,

so full of nothing,

wanting…

succumbing mystery’s peaceful paradox.

 

To fill this self

crowds companions into bloated ships

of starving slavery,

floating free of friendly destiny unfurling

back toward empty nest’s cremation.

 

Night’s brightness hints of swollen glands

knuckles

arteries

rheumatic sappy agony,

loss of memory

and sight,

then sound….

 

Hope sleeps deeper

waiting

no longer wanted

desired

in present blistered elliptical refraction.

Solipsistic elders whisper

“notice me”

beneath life’s covers.

 

Nonviolent sleep shapes active peace,

purging ego floods EcoSelf resounds

of sights reversing,

negative postscripted progress

finds yesterday’s potential

peacefully imploding tomorrow’s choices.

 

Presence found in quiet cracks

between each moment’s finished dance…

 

fusing Forward’s merging song.

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Positively Deviant Design

Hidden treasures within

affirmatively explored

while playing nice

and thinking,

speaking tribally too.

Nonviolent communicators practice

active peace intent,

within and without

reversing anomalous gifts

from interior landscape to exterior

and reflecting back again

to notice wealth of dissonance

teaching hard lessons

deserving redeemer planning,

incorporating,

fertilizing treasures inebriate

more inclusively,

blissfully articulating poli-cultures,

eco-therapies,

perma-cultured regeneration.

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SabbathTime Traveling

It feels wrong to commodify each day,

means to exclusively reclusive ends.

What mortality?

A night of dreams,

of merging id-entities into insight,

developing,

burgeoning coincidental awareness,

to arrive at co-prehensive moment

in morning’s meditation?

 

It feels right to full measure each day’s rhythm,

to respectfully dignify

our burgeoning story line’s

middle,

then commencement.

Each day a place of pilgrimage,

reauthoring our journey,

resting in rich place of gratitude

for gift of this eternal day’s promise;

fulfilling transition.

 

It feels wrong to commodify each moment,

means to ends.

What end?

Each life’s potential integrity

flows right and true,

radically replete song and dance,

engorged sustenance;

mindful,

graceful karma,

resonant resolutions.

Choosing rich eternal life

toward next moment’s transitioning abundance,

from prior moment’s integrity;

fulfilling

within time’s envelope

this day’s gifting economy.

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Self-ReGenerating Laundry Service

Not amazed at the transformation from one who,

not so far away,

only laundered his own clothes,

into one who launders our clothes,

late into a Friday night,

gratefully,

without stretched-bone resentment,

without so much as glancing back,

without any interest in what smaller self had been suffering.

 

So profoundly in love,

blind to his own bleached metamorphosis.

No longer comprehending life without

abundant heaps of mess,

soiled cherished artifacts,

much less imagine alternatives to life

that could unfold full

and rich

and fresh

and worthy.

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Steward’s Interdependence Daze

Without transformed awareness,

memory of laundered garments

only he had ever worn

washed gratefully away

in relentless downstream focal flow.

 

No looking back,

without stretched-bone resistance,

without morbid former life curiosity,

what might have been more easily cleaned,

more orderly,

less intensely demanding of grateful bow and bend,

and humor,

he folds and sorts and stacks eternal piles of clothing,

tribal artifacts of young life’s costuming of choice,

hopelessly blind to maturing metamorphosis

from independent daze to cooperative desire;

images of safe prenatal isolation

weakened by EcoSelf identity

wilting prey to long distant liminal margins,

much less could he imagine alternative incarnations

more diversely paid in interdependent wealth of scents.

 

Cooperative laundry stewards baptize with benign common waters,

and ears harvesting harmonious information.

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Summer’s Stormy Move

It started the 8th of June

moving away from too familiar

into too alien,

finding no sane oasis between.

 

Vibrant greens relentlessly fade

to wilting monochromatic drought.

Brown patches emerge with dulled loss

of what might have been a family

an ecological home

a pasture for aging bones,

hinky synapses flaring tornadoes

of heated defeat.

 

Boxes realign themselves

incomprehensibly hiding any value

in their move

from what could have been here

if not left there

where fading memories survive

my loss of presence.

 

Bags batter

bursting malignant neglect.

Chairs no longer fit

for seating hot tempers

of displaced despair.

Dust defecates destiny.

 

A house that should be home

to those grateful for its care;

downsizes redemptive purgation

into shrinking violence,

invisible,

screaming silent strangling sensory strings

slipping

sparkling vents glaring

glacially through stagnant July.

 

Then,

early evening spills thick black.

Tall elder treetops sway

with hope of cathartic wildness,

drama of release

from petulant

radiant

hot.

 

Lightning rolls in thunderous waving walls

and back again in falling grace drops.

Transition storms

through pilgrim soul’s discontented purgatory

in space without place

house without home

faith without hope

place with cavernous time,

mindful without passion.

 

Earth’s sky roars dark wet flashy passion.

Wild yeast superlatively shredding domesticated culture’s skin,

bleaching dark passions from dry-cracked crevices.

 

“Abatement is not removal!”

wild Wicked cackles demented delight.

“If transitions were regenetic

then nomads would rule,

pilgrims would land in paradise estates

with coincidental karmic confidence.”

 

The storm abates,

drought removed.

Thunder claps farewell.

Brief time

now

search evening’s rainbow

before hazing horizon

rolls over light’s last gasp.

As night promises peace,

Thunder cracks and shakes one last reminder.

Serenity is not always sanity.

 

Promise smiles teardrops

on hot tin roofs.

 

 

 

 

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Flying FreeForm

Unfettered flying floats free

of restraint

of containment or even contentment

of boundaries or coincident direction.

Free of focus,

free to be…

 

Trapped!

in unboundaried integral potentialities

unwilling to choose

to decay further into disrepair

disrepute

dissipating

self-denigrating purgation.

 

Haunted

by dreamy flights

of birdsong

chirping a rhythm beyond open-minded

grasping sensory values

to anchor what must fly

not quite so freely,

with graced discipline of practice…

Raven never roars;

Water never soars.

To fly sufficiently fulfilled

purge “might have been”

from falling memory streams….

 

Flying freely

implicately tethered

to soulful vortex of gracious improbabilities.

What goes up

must come down;

so what comes down

still blows up

in recent failing memory of bliss.

 

Flying left to right

and back again

too far

one way

or the other…?

 

Lost;

forgotten forward eye

bicamerally fixed

on future

as past

soon to be revisited

as frequently as crystaled flight

follows synaptic holes

through binary time

remembered as permaculturally predicted.

 

Blinding enlightening beam!

soars through clattering calcium

searing spacious vertebrae

of awareness self is Self

too stingily

too despairately

too much too often

careless of hubris

in the peacence of SuperEco Self’s constant passion.

 

Love fulfilled

regenerates…

 

unfettered flying freely floats;

bi-focused….

 

 

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