Today, the long way to the beginning

The event, perhaps advent, first ever any thing, where nothing had been, not a thought. I think. Then, when nothing was over and everything we know now, began, light was not the first thing, the idea was. Be for Yes. Word one. Hmmmmm or um or am it may have been, I heard from a transcribbled myth or a legend as old as any meme-level memory mortals have made-up from remaining tidbits taught to any next gen thing. Look. Assume light is as fast as the expansion, couple of Planksecs, and it is at the edge of ever, never before, never busting beyond the bubble we be in, dead center, the physical middle of ever, continuous now, nothing to stop us imagining we, disagree, now, after all's been said and done, and things run on, de iffing chaos as the live evil force itself, ever teaching any mind co-operation in time… swirling beauty in bands of invisible galaxies, barely seen even now, we see what we are told we see, enhanced and expanded to original intent, at the scale of precision, which now requires of those who wish to know truth init's entirety, faith in the wits who invented the lenses we imagine we see through into-ity ever ……….. This day began this way. Everything already, readable, as it were, once, with us, before our story folded, stapled and refolded and bent to allow the data-based mass enlightenment I deal with now, mere data, knowledge, knowns known more than I may think or ask, available on our distant viewing apparatchik network of nova sensorium's newest equations that balance at perfectly predictable infinity… or do not work. Pop. Bubble after bubble falling through the quantum foam. Come on home. Live and learn, do the math. Or wait to see somethings never mattered up to now, and now, you know, you did, some how. That's good. ------------------ here we are, after all. On course, of course; here has more spectrums to be on. here has more curves to miss, here has turns that twist us back to now, sudden- seeming now, still wow is near the only value add we ever hope to hear. Cold or hot or just right, fine sifted patterns from the echo, wa wa wa did we get so serious we lost the place we held positive on a negative pole, an aberrant position erring ever from the straight point to point pattern of pro gression to non aggressive agreement in the we we were - per haps, as babies we were thought coyotes, little devils of trickery wu, so we were swaddled in goat' wool, to provoke this itching and pre vent this whole idea, you thinking wild, unpacked unglossed abnormal canine thought… like a dog, dreaming of the chase. ------------ ---------------------- Only chase real rabbits, that's Greyhound wisdom. Pookas are always worth the chase, real or otherwise, if you see one, chase it. -------------------------- On the bus, or off, Cassidy was a character, sure as any in literature, an archetypical untamed man, crazy, by most accounts, possessed with a wish to die young, and be famous for ever having been a penniless drunkard's form of a man, an unnatural scion of lost and beaten men. ------------ So, that spirit lingered… in my past that ran to catch me here today, in the pattern recognizant aha, I know this voice… I knew that spirit, merry prankster splashing in Burro Creek, before the bridge existed, oblivious to quick sand my mother warned me to be aware of, as she had learned the hard way, …remember there is solid rock below the mud, hold your breath. --- a new me -- Burro Creek, survivor of the crossing, since ever was. ------------------------ Survival is always good news. Mission accomplished, it is finished, fini. Peace on earth, good will to ward men {wombed and un}. That is a message, an angel, judge it. They call that The gospel, in my realm. It is finished is considered grace. The truth makes free, grace makes useful. Infinite grace, with a bit of funny math for making nextifiy tests, t' keep the kids sharp. -- slow lane -- this is… The good spell, I tell my self I know. News, from nearer than we can imagine possible, posited in a place called here, at that point, nearer than we thought, here where I exist, the ego me, floating on that same old ocean of opinions, lapping at my shore. This must be that sea, they think is where all eventualities congregate to wait for everything to finish the pattern, to the nick in the stick that told us when to begin, this once, once more. I was convinced. I was never invincible, to my defense, I built the wall that hides my best from pride's envaluing scheme, best of the lot, without spot or blemish, make this the one we take, leave the ring-straked, spotted and speckled. Holy is pure. Pure is white. Uh-oh. This is where we find the stragglers, carrying the cross of Jesus, while marching, as to war. We sang that song in public school, when music was a given need each allegiant took to heart, Onward Christian Soldiers, -- mind wanders ---------------------------- 7 trombones, and 10 clarinets led the big parade, with one bass drum marching as to war, to destroy what Jesus did not finish, followed by the lesser corps, of boy scouts, with only fife and snare. Then came the grand equestrians, all who owned a silver saddle, passed as knights from when our fathers stole this land. My family had the contract to follow up with shovels and barrows on wheels. We were the signal for next phase, of hell's a-poppin-days… the Burro Barbecue in Bullhead City. Long ago, there was one red light across the river, a porch light on a trailer, behind Laughlin's first bar. ---------- Faux Nostalgian algia alegian re alegian pain of- pain felt, fear of- fear felt, --------------------------- Great line in the movie, Boss Level… geek says "Childless by choice." Hero replies, "whose choice?" --- Badfinger - half of them chose death over survival. --- if it matters when you know --- I skipped the 70's … so the soundtrack's new… I heard about you… looking back in time on a line I never walked, as it were, on first pass through the realm of ever afters flashing past lights shone, blinking, settings seeming chaotic in tri-colored quarks insisting it all works out. Rock 'n'roll f'ever, a post-pubescent poets dream. First, learn the game, then learn the rule it rode in on. Who is teaching whom the next best move. Ai do believe my loop expanded now you are here with me in the mix confused as reason for knowing quarks come in colors. Love comes in colors, too. Could be coincidence. --- Old Osiris, man, he hard t'kill. Ham 'n' Evans, not so hard. They lost the will to live. The seventies ate many couldabins. Freewill or fate, knowing was a factor. Money had a finger init right, bad, the whole unbitten apple idea attempting to tweak the future from the past… how long did those trips last? Radioman, can you imagine, all along its been this one song ? Taste, and see. know you know. sapient (adj.)"wise," late 15c. (early 15c. as a surname)- {eh, a family name?}, from Latin sapere "to taste, have taste, be wise," from PIE root *sep- (1) "to taste, perceive" (source also of Old Saxon an-sebban "to perceive, remark," Old High German antseffen, Old English sefa "mind, understanding, insight"). From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=sapient> Nothing eastern in the idea. Makes me think what if, long ago, knowing was a given, not a taken thing? Isha, you may call her Eve, or Mito-mom; she's our most recent common ancestor, after her, as a species, we came to be namers who knew, sapient sapient, the dominant multicellular life force on earth. We are her mitochondrial line, there are no others. Users of new knowns, conscience guided Homo Sapien squared, that's us, tuned to a thought that better is never worse, try… learning to talk with no one to talk to. Imagine that. … back in garden after the trick, she knew… --- C'mon, taste, you've no idea what death is. She persuaded him to taste. And there the story verges from the one you know.

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kenpepiton

77 / M / Pine Valley CA

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