One basic truth that is of inestimable value and usefulness is this dictum: all fear is fallacious and not based in fact. Fear is overcome by walking directly through it until one breaks through into the joy that the fear is blocking. The joy that follows facing any spiritual fear comes from the discovery that it was merely an illusion without basis or reality.

David Hawkins, M.D., Ph.D., 

Dissolving the Ego, Realizing the Self

Of all the world Those who want Freedom are few. Those who are burning for Freedom are even fewer. Those who strive one pointedly are even fewer. Those who do not return to the senses are even fewer. Those who go on the razors edge are even fewer still. Those who do not fall off this edge are even fewer still. Those who attain the Self are so few! Strive, strive, it is so rare that you are here. You have a mountain of merits to bring you here. Do not waste it! Strive! Sri H. W. L. Poonja, The Truth Is

Our relationship has had it's ups and downs, 
     Occasionally, they have been rough,
           And, seemingly, unrepairable.

You say why go on, there's nothing that's right,
     But the deep love we share for each other
          Has never diminished. 

There are times when you feel despair,
     That's there no end to your journey
           And, you've reached the end of hope.

I've never given up on you, or we,
     Living in the moment,
          We've created a safe haven for love.

When we both turn inward,
     We find the burning glow of love
          That gives us insight.

For true love for each other is not a gift.
    It is forged in difficulties, doubt and pain.
       And as these trials complete,

We realize that what carried us through, was pure love.

I have been in love in numberless forms, numberless times.
     In life after life, in age after age, forever.

My spellbound heart has made and remade itself.

I take you a gift, which you wear in your many forms,
     In life after life, in age after age, forever.

The melody will not be denied,

     Gleaned from dreams,

          Crafted with skill and grace.

The tune reveals itself in black on white,

     Echoing into ivory,

          While a full moon prowls rakish clouds. 

The stillness outside belies the churn within,

     The refrain encases the song,

          As darkness unlocks perfect symphonies.

We don't even take time 
      to come up for air.

We keep our mouths full 
      eating crudities dipped in cheese. 

And kissing in between.

No sooner have we made love, 
     than we're back in the kitchen.

 While I dice the peppers, 
     she grins at me.

And sautés the vegetables.

How good the wine tastes,
     that runs red,

Out of a laughing mouth,

     down her chin,

 And onto her naked breasts.

"I'm fat",
     she says.

Turning this way and that,

     "I'm crazy about her vegetables".

I shout to the heavens above.

Started earlier this year on building my tiny home.  A tiny home can be defined as small, less than 300 square feet, home either permanently attached to a foundation, built on a mobile trailer, or built on a floating platform.  I have chosen the a tiny home built on a trailer to enable a mobile lifestyle.  The tiny home community has grown rapidly in the past ten years, with an accelerated growth in the past two years.  Here are a series of links (in no particular order) to groups, communities and builders of tiny homes:

http://minimotives.com/ 

http://www.tumbleweedhouses.com/ 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/tinyhousepeople/ 

http://tinyhousetalk.com/ 

My tiny home, named The Pod, shortened from The Cephlepod, is approximately 168 square feet. Inside, I will have a queen size bed, with storage beneath, a full kitchen with refrigerator, four burner gas (propane) stove, farmer's sink, cabinetry and shelves for storage, and a tankless water heater, a shower and composting toilet, a living area with fold-up end table, and fold-down dining table (which houses a larger TV / PC monitor, keyboard and WiFi), and a marine propane heater. Every material is chemical free.

Attached are photographs showing the exterior and interior, in early stages of building, and progressively more photographs as construction continues.  I hope to have the The Pod completed by mid-October 2014. I continue to look for a permanent site to house The Pod, however, in the interim, I am considering leasing land either in Northern California, Western Oregon and Western Washington.  Should anyone who reads this blog have a lot, a side yard or open acerage, please contact me.

Laugh

     Between the sadness.

Unhappiness

     Will flee.

Embrace the rebirth

     That is offered.

My head slumps, deep in thought.
     I notice her arrival.

Cool air, from a closing door,
     Rakes over my burning face.

I feel rancor, and dismay.
     Has she come to confront me?

To question what I had done;
     Why do I feel guilty?

She sits next to me,
     Putting her hand onto mine.

Her coolness melds with my heated state.
     I began to tremble, as if a fever is consuming me.

As I turn to respond to her unspoken question,
     She places her hand over my lips,
          Silencing me.

"We are not perfect, you and I,"
      She whispers.
          "I love you, because, you are flawed".

Taking my head in her hands,
     She kisses me passionately.

"Let's go home," she quietly murmurs.
     "Our bed is cold, and,
          our love needs to be renewed."

A Posse ad Esse

"From being possible to being actual"

My journey accelerates, and in 2014, I will advance confidently in the direction of my dreams, and endeavor to live the life I imagine.  My success will exceed my expectations.

You are not a burden...

I do want to be a burden on my loved ones, just as I want them to be a burden on me.  It's called looking after each other.

Obviously, I know we are all terrified of the indignity of dying, and of being ill generally. Having someone cleanup our mess, put up with our incoherent ramblings and mood swings. It threatens our cherished sense of personal space and autonomy.

But this is where the model of individual determination breaks down. For it is when we are this vulnerable that we have little choice but to allow ourselves to be loved and cared for.

We do not form temporary alliances with each other for short-term mutual advantage. My existence is fundamentally bound up with yours. Of course, I will hold your hand in the long hours of the night. Be quiet about being a burden, I love you. This is what it means to love you.

Surely, there something extraordinarily beautiful about all of this.

Poetry...Expressions

Thoughtful poetry site...http://neveringpoetry.blogspot.com/

Never Ending Story: Part 5 -- The Next Generation

He realized the old legend was true: one out of every million octopi have the potential to evolve into a kraken.  All have failed; until now. A kraken -- a mighty octopus as big as a sailing vessel.  The diver realizing what was happening, let go, and tried to swim away. The kraken threw the diver across the pier, and the diver crumpled to the ground. The kraken rose up over the remaining crowds, towering thirty, no, forty feet above them. He yanked on the tethered line and it broke freeing him from the spear.  He rushed up the pier scattering people, smashed the post and freed the mermaid. Gently, he cradled her in his tentacles, and dove into the channel, swimming quickly toward the sea.  

Arrows and spears rained down him, most missing with a few hitting their target, and deeply wounding him. He ignored the pain, and dove further into the dark seas leaving a trail of ink and blood. Finally, where no man could go, he stopped.  He looked down at the mermaid.  Her colors had returned and she glowed: indigo blue, teal, pink and red. She gently caressed him and began to dress his wounds. As she tended to him she sang a song explaining why the Marquesas’ Islanders revere the octopus -- the octopus represents freedom and regeneration. Freedom to move effortlessly through their environment and establish and reestablish new homes; regeneration because when they lose an appendage or kin, their limb is regrown and new family members are born.

The mermaid and the octopus continued their journey deep into the ocean. No one ever saw them again; no one knows where they went. And, even today, the legend of the kraken is believed to be a myth.

“Pop-O”, cried out one of the little children.  “Pop-O, what happened to the mermaid and the octopus? Where did they go? Are they safe? Will the octopus recover from his wounds?” the young child began to cry silently. Pop-O reached down and picked up his great – granddaughter, held her gently his arms, and began to rock her slowly. As he soothed her tears, he marveled at her long blonde hair and dark green eyes. 'Could she be the one?', he thought silently. He glanced at the woman he loved, and she nodded approvingly, her blond and grey hair swaying gently.

“Shush, shush, little one. We will never know the answers to all your questions.  However, we do know love is stronger than any other emotion, and has no bounds, no limits. It lasts through many lifetimes and blooms when the conditions are right.  Do not fear for the octopus and mermaid. Wherever they are, they are safe and are living peacefully together,” he gently whispered to her and the other children gathered at his feet.

Pop-O then handed the child to his granddaughter and turned to look at the woman he loved. She was wearing her favorite outfit -- blue indigo skirt, teal green sweater and a reddish pink shawl.  She had aged as he had; however, he only saw her aura of beauty, grace and serenity. Gently, with his arm bearing the scars of a violent struggle from a long time ago, he pulled her reddish pink shawl over her teal sweater clad shoulders. A chill was in the air. Taking her hand, they said goodbye to the children, turned and slowly walked down the lane. As night fell, and the stars shown brightly in the sky, they disappeared from sight.

To Be Continued

Never Ending Story: Part 4 -- The Battle

Slowly, he spiraled down to the channel bottom; the embedded spear tied by a line to the spear gun dragged him further. He quickly reoriented himself, and grabbed the line with several tentacles. Using his propulsion, he slowed the descent to a stop.  The spear had passed nearly through his tentacle. If he could push further through it would fall out on the other side. Then he could break the line.  However, the diver had other plans. He had wrapped the spear gun around an anchor, and now was swimming directly toward the octopus with a sharp knife in each of his hands. Instinctively, the octopus ejected a cloud of ink which engulfed him and the diver. Pushing with one tentacle, he dislodged the spear. His blood further colored the water; however, he was fighting for survival. The diver and the octopus feinted and jabbed at each other. The diver scored several gashes on the octopus’ tentacles, one which cut deep and bled ferociously.

All his training he received in the past, all the stories of great battles energized him, and he quickly lashed out at the diver grabbing one arm, then the next.  He was beginning to feel his anger rise in him. The pain his kind had received from men, the slaughter of kin, the constant need to migrate to safer waters…all began to give him strength.

Their battle continued unabated, and their thrashings had caught the attention of the crowd. As they both surfaced, screams from the crowd arose, and the crowds ran away as quickly as possible.  It was then that he heard the song, the lyrics had no meaning. But the music was calling to him to rise and become his true self. Deep within his soul, an image began to form. The image sang out to him, calling to him to rise and become his true self. Then, realized he the images he had dreamt about the previous nights were his ancestors calling to him, awakening him. He realized he was descended from a mermaid and a kraken! 

Slowly, then more quickly, he felt his body changing.  

Never Ending Story: Part 3 -- A Challenge

He was astonished to see hundreds of men and women talking, pointing and gesturing at something standing alone in the middle of pier. A continuous spray of water doused whatever was there. What was it? Why the need for water? He was too far from the pier to clearly see what was occurring. To move closer would put him in endanger. But he must move closer.  He pushed his fear away and drifted closer.

He could the feel the pull the song had on him.  He could almost decipher the lyrics, and the raw emotion pulled at his heart and his spirit. What was causing this? He had never experienced this feeling. It was as if his spirituality was being reopened, tested and challenged.  He felt he was being asked to do something, but, what?

As he got closer, he could vaguely make out some creature standing, no, tied to a post.  Its colors were deep indigo blue, with shades of teal, soft reds and pinks. The colors faded when water drained from its body, however, their bright hues instantly returned where the seawater splashed. Long hair cascaded down over soft shoulders.  Oh my, it is not possible, he thought; it was the long storied and never seen creature – a mermaid!!

A-a-aughh, he felt a sharp pain in one of his tentacles. The diver had returned, and he was being pulled down to the channel bottom by the embedded spear!

Never Ending Story: Part 2 -- A Vision

Traveling at night provided the octopus the cover of darkness to keep him hidden from predators. During daylight, he hid in crannies within the reef and restlessly slept. His dreams were unsettled; the recurring lyric continued to stir up memories which briefly flashed and disappeared. He could not connect the images with any specific memory. And, yet, each image seemed familiar, seemed to come from some shared distant past. It was exhausting to focus on the images, and he fell into a deep untroubled sleep.

As he approached the shore, the shallower water provided him less protection. And the water was tainted with men spoil – debris, oil, dead sea life and a smell that tasted of metal, blood and unsanitary conditions. Hiding was more difficult, and the constant boat traffic overhead stirred up the lifeless bottom. He felt unclean, and his fears began to rise.  He found an abandoned pier; its collapsed timbers provided some protection.  He was not far from the bright lights and the song was very strong. Its vibrations tingled across his body. So familiar, so heart-warming, and yet it could not be placed.

Suddenly, an apparition appeared! A diver was gliding along the sea bottom, spearfish gun in hand, head turning from side to side, seeking prey. The octopus coiled up as tightly as possible, his body assuming the colors of the background. Controlling his breathing he awaited the diver’s approach. The diver stopped and looked straight at the octopus. His gaze was unrelenting.  Then, he slowly turned away and swam farther down the coastline. The octopus remained stationery; he knows predators wait for movement and attack quickly. This waiting game is usually won by the octopus; this time he prevailed again.

Soon, it would be dark, and the octopus will move closer to the bright lights and source of the song. Resting deep beneath the pier, he calmed himself, pushing his fears away and rested.  He felt these next steps will be the most challenging of his life. His family history spoke of strong leaders who guided the family through many challenges and dangers. Was this his moment?

He had heard stories about his grandfather and other relatives who traveled great distances, overcoming horrific odds and dangers, to populate new reefs and establish new lives. They had fought battles with other sea creatures, tended their family needs, dressed their wounds and rebuilt their lives wherever they could find shelter. He dwelt on the stories and learnings he had been taught. Briefly, an image begins to arise in his memory – a feminine creature.  A long storied and never seen creature.

No, that was a figment of his imagination and part of stories created by his ancestors to explain phenomena that could not be explained.  He quickly pushed the image from his mind, and began to prepare for the next leg of his journey. Slowly, he unraveled and slide silently across the channel’s bottom, moving around anchors and debris and moving up the channel. The noise rose higher and higher, and the song continued.  However, there were periods where it stopped – he wondered why.  Carefully, he surfaced across the channel and viewed the pier where everyone was gathered.