One hundi, bra.

Sometimes, my people just disgust me. Unforgivable: *check da link. and cry. 

The Reality of Homosexuality in Africa: The Yoruba Example

Oh jeff. free. -- waffles are all I know your ppl to be about!

Belgium, apparently. lol.

Very good, young grasshopper.

Insane Kid Bassist!!-- blow me. blows my. mind. 

Fake Library

AnOthermag.com

Love et al.

Message from Jonathan

What is the difference between the "mind/ego" and "spirit"? If, perhaps, your spirit shines through your being at a time, someone may say, "your eyes are youthful and sparkling". The "ego" will then look in a mirror and SEE...OBSERVE...the sparkle in the eyes. The insane ego LIKES how it feels in that moment. In an attempt to feel more of it, it attempts "replication". The person/ego will then TRY...ATTEMPT...to MAKE their eyes sparkle with "behavior". Perhaps they will try to "widen" their eyelids...try to induce the sparkle. It is at this point that the "ego" blocks the access of your spirit to you and the sparkle goes away. 

Influences: The essence of life itself. 

Church: The spontaneous formulation of a mutual identity involving life forms that are organized around itself. I/We. The birth and death of an identity..an expression. The what is the why. When it is formulated from love, explosive expression involving ALL of the components equally is observed and leaves any other organization of consciousness in observation of this in AWE. Church is the organization of life around love/spirit and not a place that you "go to". This is when TRUE creation occurs. A "church" can form within your own body as well. When this occurs, one is neither displaying positivity nor negativity. They will display CERTAINTY. They will be piercing, commanding, and the voice of life in that time. The reason "song" came about is that when a group of people experience this they can not help but to express. Since they ALL need to express in an explosive creation of love...the obvious result would be a chorus within which all are equal, yet unique contributions...the bursting into SONG. When this happens within a person individually, you can see where "art", "architecture", or anything else creative comes from. The love of spirit.

It is VERY simple. Do the cells in your body attack each other when they are healthy? Do they hurt each other in any way? We are just a few scales up from cells. We are all cells to something larger. I believe life is a dream. Is that so bad? Would you want the cells in your body to be aware that they are just sitting there being cells? No. Wouldn't you want your cells to be able to dream? I think they might. I think we are larger cells dreaming. 

Basically the truth is this. "Radiating" energy is NO different than "doing" anything else. If you send "energy" that is no different than giving a "hug". But, that is NOT "love". It can be the "result" of love. There is only ONE way to love....love.

It requires no more effort than that. So VERY simple that it has eluded almost EVERYONE. All of your cells in your body are unique systems, right? WHAT is animating them? YOU. YOU are EVERY cell in your body. If you know the scalar nature of this reality, there is only one truth. YOU are ME. If that is true, HOW can you "send" me love? Just LOVE ME.

Picture two people in your mind, standing there looking at each other. Now, picture these two being in love with each other. Picture them loving and expressing love to each other. WHO "really" did that? You have two characters in your mind "interacting" with love. But that love was an INTENT. It was YOUR intention. In your mind, you had two people "expressing" your intention.

The beauty of life is that YOU are a CREATION and also the CREATOR. As a creation, you get to express the intent of the creator (the larger part of you) and also be able to "create", so you can observe the manifestation of YOUR intent.

I love you. 

:)

http://www.lukasig.com/adampants.html

Dear Jeffrey Guilmot, if ever you read this, know that I love you. -- Sincerely yours, Tomi<3

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

The lake was a dark cornflower blue this morn. sigh. <3 *here, it's slightly lighter than my blue:

Now tell me this isn't glory!

Tryin'/Learnin' to adore the ordinary.

Emerson on Love,

For though the celestial rapture falling out of heaven seizes only upon those of tender age, and although a beauty overpowering all analysis or comparison and putting us quite beside ourselves we can seldom see after thirty years, yet the remembrance of these visions outlasts all other remembrances, and is a wreath of flowers on the oldest brows. But here is a strange fact; it may seem to many men, in revising their experience, that they have no fairer page in their life's book than the delicious memory of some passages wherein affection contrived to give a witchcraft, surpassing the deep attraction of its own truth, to a parcel of accidental and trivial circumstances. In looking backward they may find that several things which were not the charm have more reality to this groping memory than the charm itself which embalmed them. But be our experience in particulars what it may, no man ever forgot the visitations of that power to his heart and brain, which created all things anew; which was the dawn in him of music, poetry, and art; which made the face of nature radiant with purple light, the morning and the night varied enchantments; when a single tone of one voice could make the heart bound, and the most trivial circumstance associated with one form is put in the amber of memory; when he became all eye when one was present, and all memory when one was gone; when the youth becomes a watcher of windows and studious of a glove, a veil, a ribbon, or the wheels of a carriage; when no place is too solitary and none too silent, for him who has richer company and sweeter conversation in his new thoughts than any old friends, though best and purest, can give him; for the figures, the motions, the words of the beloved object are not like other images written in water, but, as Plutarch said, "enamelled in fire," and make the study of midnight:— 


"Thou art not gone being gone, where'er thou art,
Thou leav'st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy
loving heart."

 

John Ashberry-- 'THE BEES HYMN'

IGNORANCE OF THE LAW IS NO EXCUSE

We were warned about spiders, and the occasional famine.
We drove downtown to see our neighbors. None of them were home.
We nestled in yards the municipality had created,
reminisced about other, different places—
but were they? Hadn't we known it all before?
In vineyards where the bee's hymn drowns the monotony,
we slept for peace, joining in the great run.
He came up to me.
It was all as it had been,
except for the weight of the present,
that scuttled the pact we had made with heaven.
In truth there was no cause for rejoicing,
nor need to turn around, either.
We were lost just by standing,
listening to the hum of wires overhead.
We mourned that meritocracy which, wildly vibrant,
had kept food on the table and milk in the glass.
In skid-row, slapdash style
we walked back to the original rock crystal he had become,
all concern, all fears for us.
We went down gently
to the bottom-most step. There you can grieve and breathe,
rinse your possessions in the chilly spring.
Only beware the bears and wolves that frequent it
and the shadow that comes when you expect dawn.

Shakespeare, Dub.

SONNET 129

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame

Is lust in action; and till action, lust

Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;

Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight;

Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,

Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait

On purpose laid to make the taker mad:

Mad in pursuit and in possession so;

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;

A bliss in proof, -- and proved, a very woe;

Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.

All this the world well knows; yet none knows well

To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

c.v.

Life is so beautiful.

Somehow I keep being blessed with random niceties.

Light as a feather, b.

@ ajlattimore -- 'thin your heard' keeps repeating itself in my head..

Slowly but surely cleansing myself, shedding unnecessary baggage - some ppl, thoughts...

widdle weiners

numb (in').

numbin' up.

you're so fuckin' welcome.