dark on the roof-
cold sea wind
wraps around summer legs -
my pen runs dry.

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.

Chief Seattle

Marcus du Sautoy describes prime numbers as ‘the atoms of arithmetic’. He writes of the eerie similarities between the patterns of prime numbers (and yes, they have found a mechanism - Riemann’s Zeta Function – that finally brings prime number patterns to the surface) and energy levels in the nuclei of large atoms.

This connects concepts – prime numbers- that were elegant mental structures without particular value in the physical world, to quantum physics no less. A major link between the purity of math, and physical reality.

An intriguing third connection is to art. In Douglas Adams’s famous work of science fantasy, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything is...42.

Only a few years ago, mathmeticians conjectured that the third number of the Riemann Zeta sequence, after 1 and 2, is likely to be 42.

Du Sautoy presents a marvelous triangle of mental logic, physical reality, and artistic intuition.

From
‘Prime Numbers Get Hitched’
By Marcus du Sautoy
Professor of math at Oxford University
Seed magazine
Feb/Mar 2006

I spent an hour or so writing about Salvador Dali’s painting The Sacrament of the Last Supper today. Then, while searching for something to post tonight, I came across a photo I took over a year ago of a painting in a shop window. Note the similar hand gestures.

a medley of voices
sing summer carols
and the blind can see
a hundred doves burst into flight
and we are freed

What if the ocean was always smooth as glass?
Cheers! - to choppy weather!

Is there a feeling called thanks?

In the beginning and at the end, face close to the green and pale dry grass, there was thanks. Not happy, not sad, not content, not full nor empty nor peaceful. Just the wonderful feeling thanks.

touch
the soundless language
a hand settles lightly upon on a shoulder
warm weighted
a friend stands
quiet presence
no one can hurt us
no barbed words, no wants
this moment resounds beyond this moment
as babies we are held
warmly to the chest

A boy pulled a girl
in a wheeled cart
around the basketball court.
She sat upright and sorrowful,
a skinny princess
with regal bearing
gaze downward in gloom.
The boy suddenly shifted.
He trotted and tilted
and the ride grew wilder.
Her eyes opened wide, awake.
She clung to the sides-
now at attention!
But she bounced out the back anyway,
tumbled to the ground
prostrate.
The playground was silent.
She started to laugh.

The theme 'softness' kept surfacing today, the contradictions of womanhood, of softness and strength; how friendship softens the sharp edges of life.

Though only compatible notes make a chord,
a chord can be built on any note.
There is power through any outlet.
Looking at a synchronicity of light
not lost but found found found.

It’s one of those days. Lost, and I’m not even on an island. A lot of what I’ve written in the past works well when you’re alone, but when friends or relatives are involved, or you have little children, you can’t just be one with the lostness for very long. Can you?

I can honor it for the moment. Might as well because at this moment I’m lost.
I’ve received hints that I need a GPS but a GPS doesn’t help if I don’t know the address of the destination.

And yes, I can't be lost when God is my friend, but God works in mysterious ways.

The other day I used an old fashioned map to find a publishing house. I did have the address from the phone book. I ended up in a most mysterious neighborhood, new pleasant buildings for offices and such, but surrounded by very tall wrought iron fencing for the full block. No numbers or labels or signs. Other blocks were similarly surrounded by fencing. I parked on the street. It was sunny and breezy in a very chilly way, and I walked around the whole block. A man with a baby in a stroller walked by, looking out of place. I called the publisher with my cell phone, but the woman who answered directed me to go to the website.

I tried to explain, I can find a lot of publishers online, but you’re right here. I’m on your block. I’d like to meet some real people, maybe get a brochure?

She gave me the website address.

Right now, I'm sitting at Jump n Java, the sun in my face. Pleasantly occupied at a pleasant spot. Being in this moment, I see I do know where I am. I'm not lost at all. I'm here, reaching out, reaching out.

Nature imitating art?



Looks like a little bird feeding a big bird in the water -

Kids are great artists.

Question: How do you store leftovers in a bowl in the fridge without using plastic wrap?

Answer: Set a plate on top of the bowl.

During Dwight D. Eisenhower's administration in the 1950s, the U.S. planned and began implementation of a bold idea that perhaps was as influential in connecting the people of our large country as the television. The Interstate Highway project was a magnificent wonder of the continental US. According to Wiki (with supporting documentation), 'as of 2006, the system has a total length of 46,876 miles (75,440 km), making it both the largest highway system in the world and the largest public works project in history.' We take this huge accomplishment for granted because it's been an imbedded part of our lives for decades. But initially, it was a marvel that an individual could drive the width or length of the country, and expect a certain standard of highway construction, limited slowdowns, and services at regular intervals the entire way. The engineering perhaps did not require anything too novel (I don't know about this), but the application of that engineering to such a big vision makes it remarkable.

Could what Eisenhower did for connecting citizens from coast to coast have applications for some of our ecological concerns? Why not create an interstate wilderness highway? Initiate a bold, big vision, the purchase of contiguous lands crisscrossing the country, connecting parks and national forests already in government ownership, acquiring more habitat to adequately support the diversity of plants and creatures across our beautiful country. Not necessarily special lands, but uninterrupted land, providing migratory animals safe thoroughfare, making certain that certain areas are not through our highly valued economic freedoms casually suburban- and urbanized, destroying what our wildlife requires for survival. Animals and plants would be guaranteed connected swaths of land free of artificial chemicals, pesticides, and fast vehicles. Forests and prairies and mountains would once again be connected without barriers. Can you imagine the map of the country, with lines showing the untouched wilderness highways? Instead of waiting for emergencies such as extinctions and ecological disasters, why not a bold proactive project protecting more of our country’s heritage: wildlife, land and water in its natural state from border to border. A source of American pride and thriving life. Imagine.

The pigeons broke into flight. The same moment, there was the sound of bells near where I sat, as though the birds and the bells were the same.

Walking a street from the other direction is not the same path. The street sign may still read 'Chaucer', but it's a different trip. Traveling cross-country, even if you take the same route, is a very different experience driving east to west than west to east. I'm always surprised to discover that. And driving or walking, it's a different time of day or night, or a different season. The light shines differently. You see buildings from a different angle. Some things are revealed, some hidden. We think we'll show a friend this marvelous place we discovered, but it is never really the same, is it. Sand shifts beneath our feet.

I got shy about posting the poem
I worked on for tonight
so here I am.
The coffee house has closed.
I'm sitting on a low concrete wall
bordering a garden of fragrant herbs,
still snagging a few minutes more of wireless.
Cars are tooling past,
people walking by.
Venus is a spark of white light
suspended between a couple of power lines.
The fellow across the way
has finished sweeping the sidewalk
and walks away with his broom and dust pan.
A car parked at the curb
blinks its lights.
Venus has ducked now beneath the bottom line,
soon to set,
and growing brighter as the light of dusk fades.
The voices of two guys and a gal
rise and fall across the street.
It's a beautiful night.

A few days ago, I read a reference to the Antikythera mechanism, a brilliant feat of engineering and elegance. The sea-worn machine [ http://paxarcana.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/antikythera_mechanism.jpg ] was found in 1900 in a vessel near Greece that is believed to have sunk on a voyage from the Island of Rhodes to Rome. The mechanism has been determined to be over 2000 years old. Since it's recovery, it's been greatly studied, and replicas have been created. Described as the earliest known computer, the inside of its wood casing is printed with detailed instructions on its operation. A combination calendar and atlas, it offers accurate mapping of time and space. For example, if you are at these coordinates, at this specifc time, from your perspective, the sun, moon and planets will be in these locations. One can find information on eclipses, and on the dates of the Olympic games of the era. I look at the images of models [ http://www.grand-illusions.com/images/articles/articles/antikythera/mainimage.jpg ], and wonder if the creator didn't in part, using gears, recreate the celestial mechanics of the universe.

Step across the sunlit empty morning field.
Extend this hand palm up.
Extend that hand palm up.
Offering.
Soft and light.
Here I am, as I am.
Not as others see me or think I should be. Not my expectations for self, nor my disappointments in self.
Ah so simple.
A great peace.
Here I am, as I am.

with love silence is clearer…

take your intellect out and let it lie down in the mud. It’s no help…

The ailments of love are different from any other. Love is the astrolabe that sights into the mysteries of God.

Earth-love, spirit-love, any love looks into that yonder.


Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

In the martial arts framework of Shintaido, interference comes running at you from in front, behind, above, the side. It makes noise and distractions from the sidelines.

You're taught to open the door and say, Welcome!

Chaos is just blessings in many shapes from many directions.

Design within the Chaos

a man sweeps the sidewalk
he hurtles through
the dim lit universe
with the birds and barnacles
the olive trees and skyscrapers
all riding the same Harley through the night

Nature does not hurry,
yet everything is accomplished.

Lao Tzu

I didn't plan to wander around an unfamiliar part of Oakland yesterday, but there I was, one mistaken turn and a wealth of novel sunlit beauty stretched out before me. There was nothing there that I would have known to Google or ask about, nothing I would have planned to go visit.

I read that Google's search engine is now programmed to use data from one's history of searches to determine what the user wants to find when typing in a topic. That's great if I'm looking for information. For example, I occasionally look up the lyrics to songs. Now, when I type in a song title, several lyrics links pop up on the first page. Mission accomplished.

It's not so good if I wish to skateboard. Search engine exploration seems so tame of late. Now I know why. I miss the links that took me out of the confines of my expectations and into unknown territories of salivation, mufflers, arrow-making, Josephine Baker, celestinas, unfamiliar parts of Oakland and beyond. I like surprise.

he presses on
a cane in each hand
taking his own sweet time
but in motion
always in motion
spring sun casts
dappled light
at his feet

she sits on the bench
in the washeteria
legs out in front of her
body quiet
dark eyes bright and observant
her mother checks the clothes in the dryer
and smiles
the washers sing

brother
sisters
the moment passes
the moment holds still,
and doesn't yield.

if i could find words
like the soaring and wheeling of doves
above shattuck street
as the sunlight retreats across the fading sky,
i would write them for you

Every moment contains an infinity of options. Hop on a train, turn back, change the landscape, run ahead, freeze, feed the baby raccoons, dig yourself a trench, toss a lightning bolt, take a nap, take an aspirin, stay the course, embrace. Give up. Make a sandwich. Sing a higher note than you've ever sung before.

Take a risk, or stay on the couch. Open the door and take one step out. Chances are it won't result in your funeral, and it won't make you a millionaire, but it will move you forward.

Being silent for longer than what feels comfortable compels us finally to: hey, LISTEN!