Category Archives: consciousness

Dear Clusterflock

At what point in your life did you realize that you’re probably never going to be as healthy/attractive/happy/etc. as you once were? Did you have the presence of mind to realize it at the time? Or have you somehow avoided this altogether (i.e. you’re under 30)?

I had my doubts at 30, but now I’m pretty sure I’m officially on the decline. Nothing drastic, but it’s like when you realize your new car isn’t a new car anymore. Except you can’t save up for a new one, or even take out a foolish auto loan.

Omega Institute In Your Pants, 2013 edition

It’s that magical time, folks! Once again, as in 2010, my woodland friend Susan has forwarded the In Your Pants edition of the Rhinebeck, NY, Omega Center’s course catalog.

Sign up early, if you want a spot; these pants fill up fast!

The Wayfinder Experience in Your Pants
Unlocking the Life Force in Your Pants
The Marks of Our Existence in Your Pants
Say “No” to Stress in Your Pants
Storming Heaven in Your Pants
Compose Yourself in Your Pants
Trees & Ecosystems in Your Pants
Frequencies of Healing in Your Pants
Enter Through the Image in Your Pants
Dreamgates in Your Pants
Leap of Perception in Your Pants
Timeless Loving in Your Pants

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Lowly Dung Beetles Are Insect Astronomers

SAMSUNG DIGITAL MOVIE

Even the humble dung beetle, its life spent barely an inch above the ground, pushing balls of waste, steers by starlight.

“Dung steered by the stars,” as my longtime friend Steve said.

Or, as Oscar Wilde wrote in “Lady WIndermere’s Fan”:

DUMBY. I don’t think we are bad. I think we are all good, except Tuppy.

LORD DARLINGTON. No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Frances Stark [THIS IS NOT EXACTLY A CAT VIDEO]

Screen shot 2013-01-21 at 10.10.09 PM

With David Bowie’s “Star Man”. Et cetera. 2007.

“I’m David Bowie!”

“Yeah! Me, too!”

Please do me this one favor and watch all of this and you’ll be glad that you did.

Monsters! I’m David Bowie!

Dreams of Small Recitals

You are caramel and hot wax. I am a new wool sweater with a bull’s eye on its back. The ladder in the yard climbs high into the air and I go up, up, up. I’m afraid to look down. The ladder stands unsupported as if it’s a flagpole. I remove bandages until the fabric coils like snakes, but nothing within is wrapped except old air. A woman in line at the deli complains: “My feet are killing me and I can’t stand for very long because it hurts my back.” I suggest she should wait instead for service at the shoe store. Strangers don’t appreciate it when you’re trying to be helpful.

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