silent thunder

Perhaps I reengage with forms, not to achieve something desired, or lose something unwanted... but simply to experience and 'be with it'.

Thank you for this topic and in particular thank you @freeform Your choice of words have been settling through me for a few days now. There is some discomfort with some of it, which seems a good sign lately. For some time now, I've been unable to engage in any of my old forms. Yet upon reading, rereading and allowing this conversation to settle... I sense the potential to re-engage with a degree of you and your teachers filtered perspective. I'm curious, what lineage he teaches from? your sharing reminded me of this thought that arose to me, shortly before I needed to walk away from all formal 'practice'. muddiest waters left undisturbed by process rest in clarity Perhaps mind is quieting enough for me to approach again... perhaps sung is settling. anyway... deep thanks that you and all involved take their time to share here. I often delete my posts instead of publish them, for every one I publish, many are deleted as unworthy, useless. Deeply grateful you all chose to share here. Great benefit arises from unlikely places these days, places i used to overlook.

Dylan was raised in the Iron range in Minnesota, not far from where I grew up. Tough place to grow up. Harsh. He once said of his youth... I ran away 17 times, they brought me back 16. A workmate friend of mine toured with him in the 80's. He said Dylan was extremely private and so reclusive, he almost never spoke a word to anyone, nor came out to engage with others except to convey set lists and then walk on stage. Still waters run deep. What a wonderful poet, thanks for the reminder, haven't listened to him in too long.

Upon thinking review, I guess it's disingenuous to say thoughts are totally intangible, when they seem to be comprised or associated with energy, at least as it applies to brain. They directly and sometimes deeply impact physiology. Though I don't and so far can't accept that thought is generated by the physical brain. Brain seems a focusing agent, a tool so to speak, not unlike a radio or television for tuning in frequencies. Thought seems to arise from awareness, as does the physical to me. Not vice versa.

Thoughts are intriguing. I experience them, yet they have no substance and no tangible reality. Yet they seem to exhibit great impact on my experience of reality. They occupy a bit of time. They begin endure a bit and then come to an end. Yet they occupy no place in space. They are never a 'thing'. While portions of the brain are active during various types of thinking there is no where we can look in the brain while someone is thinking of an apple and see an image of an apple. Curiously, live imaging of the brain has shown that whether I am seeing an apple with my eyes, or conjuring the idea of one in my mind, the same portions of the brain light up in each instance, lending credence to the modern notion that we 'hallucinate our reality'. Transduction of signals from outside to inside the brain aside. This seems very key to me... madly important, yet I can't put words to why. That aside. What is a thought? Seems there are levels. Thoughts have no shape or substance and yet give rise to the manifest everyday. The Wright Brothers thought long about airplanes and then built them. To me, a physical sensation is also a thought. Awareness of my feet on the floor is a thought... the body and its processes are all thought, or perhaps thought inducing. I've always appreciated the Greek language for its distinction of nouns. There is one word for an apple I'm holding in my hand and offering to you to eat. There is a separate word that is used for apple when we are speaking of conceptual apples and not specific physical apples. Well enough spit-balling. Sometimes when I am mulling something over a lot, I'll write about it, or talk about it, even when no one is around, as we use different portions of brain and mind when talking/writing, than when just 'thinking'. Sometimes I sense that may bring in a new avenue of perception and perspective shift that may bring insight. No insight, but a thought just crept in... my coffee cup needs refilling. cheers thinkers!

We tend to spend our expendible money on experiences instead of stuff. Travel is big. But even then, we prefer camping over hotels and hiking over resorts. Things get boring and used up so fast... memories really shine, as long as ya get to keep em anyway. Mom lost almost all of her memories toward the end... that was a wild ride. Really just isn't that much that's needed for a full open throttle life when it comes down to it. I have a collection of small invaluable emotional totems. Items associated with the folks that I love with all my being. Each has a vivid memory, and a specific person associated with it. Through the ease of modern life, all of my closest friends are now spread out across the globe, so these small items are treasured all the more. Books. Books. Books. I freaking love books and have begun collecting (psuedo-hoarding) again after winnowing my collection down by 70% in a deep purge about a decade ago. I doubt I'll ever purge like that again. My son will inherit the library. Books shine brighter than gold for me.

Interesting. We're crossing over heavily in central Norway with Hedmark. My norse almost all hails from Nord-Trondelog along the coast, but the second most featured is in Hedmark. I've found solid records placing one family line from my Father's Mother in Stange Parrish in particular, on the South-Western portion of Hedmark.

and there always seems to be so much of it... particularly processed thought/news and fast food. Reminds me, walking through the grocery store with my son last weekend. We're passing the endcaps, he looks over and says "All bright colors and boxes. No real food down any of these aisles."

Hells ya. I'm down. And just like that, reading those two sentences reminded me of a book a buddy recommended years ago on this very thing. Funny, I almost deleted the post before submitting, really glad I didn't. Had I not read your response, who knows when that book would resurface. Ordering it now before I forget... again. Julian Jayne's: The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind.

I did it. So did my wife. Ancestry.com was my choice. I knew my family on my Father's side all emigrated to the Midwest 1850's-70's from Norway. a There was less info on my Mother's side so curiosity about that prompted me to participate. It was fun to find out what else is part of this fluid thing I call my body. I'm glad I did it. Results were more specific than I anticipated. And when I decided to join as a member, I gained access to international public records and have now traced both sides back to the early 1600's with very minimal time invested. I've got the membership for another couple months and will see where I end up before deciding if I want to maintain and pursue further. It was interesting to find out my wife's family arrived in the Virginia Territory in the early 1700's. No one knew or spoke of that if they did. As to my dna, they are welcome to it. 77% Norse 12% Welsh/Brit and 5% Scot/Irish 4% Russian steppes 2% Germanic. I'll just say this, if you wade into my dna... mind the hammers

When does a punishment become its own crime? I don't know who could answer for everyone. I sure can't. I only know my take on this has evolved over time, back and forth a couple times since my teens. It varies by the scenario and individual. I don't think there's one right answer. But I find it beneficial to check in from time to time and gauge current perspective.

I do. Won't speak for others.

...

I lean away from murder as punishment. I lean away from punishment at all. Isolate the violent, the dangerous. Stop them, prevent them if possible and then isolate them. Isolate and limit the ability to cause harm. But once isolated, why seek to heap further abuse on an already damaged individual? Why seek to damage? Cause more pain? There are times when I have inflicted great justified pain on another. They deserved it. I saturated in this justification as I said words that will hound them the remainder of their lives, eviscerating them mentally. Anyone can heal from a bruise or broken bone. But a few well worded phrases will paralyze and harm someone's reality through their mind the rest of their lives perhaps. Seems like sickness to me now. To desire to inflict pain for pain. I have only so much energy in life, in any given day. I'm gratefully coming to a point where I no longer have much energy for lashing out. I save my energy for protecting, for nurturing. If merited, if truly needed I will engage in violence. I'm no pacifist. No doormat. Though I notice I'm quicker to rise to defend another, than myself. And once the harm has passed and the violator has been subdued and stopped... there is no desire to heap abuse and pain on them. I have only so much energy in any day. I would rather apply it nurturing what I love, than harming what I despise.

While it may be explained to you... it cannot be understood for you. ~ anon

You're right on time.

The Dao of Dad While any fertile man can potentially father a child... not everyone is capable of being a Dad. A thread to share about your Father, or your Dad. A place to honor, or vent... and not be shamed. Share or not, it's up to you. Here are my two experiences with Fathers... as antipodal as they come. I really won the lottery when it came to my Father... my Dad. Out of 6 billion people (when I was born), I got Spencer Brian for a Father. Invaluable beyond imagining the gift of having this man as my Dad. His intelligence and fiercely keen intellect were only outmatched by his humor and his love of nature. He nurtured exploration. He cultivated critical thinking in the way he phrased open questions that prodded one to explore and come to one's own conclusions and was reticent to ever offer outright answers. He encouraged participation in life full throttle. Really live, right or wrong, be there. Participate! He was a fierce materialist and often gave me skads of shit for my energetic perceptions and woo woo ways. God how I miss that! But in all my time with him... no matter how fundamentally we disagreed on something, even when he was picking me up at the police station... not only did my Dad never hit me, he never spoke unkindly to me. Never once did he put me down, assault me with his assumptions, or chastise me. He had no need to. He was comfortable with who he was and he accepted I was not him. So we could meet and overlap or not overlap as was authentic to our nature. He had no compunctions about calling out dangerous or dumbass behavior. But never once in the midst of said chastising did I for a moment feel that he rejected me, or didn't love me, or nurture me that I might thrive. When he passed... and every. single. day. since. I am overwhelmed by gratitude that out of this 14 billion year spinning universe, I had the chance and unbelievable fortune to meet and spend time with that man, let alone have him for a Father. Truly, what greater gift is there? Did I earn this? no. It's just how things were for me. That's my experience with fatherhood. My other intimate experience of a father is the antipodal extreme of my own and is my experience with the man who fathered (and tortured) my wife throughout her childhood. My wife had the opposite experience of fatherhood. The man who fathered her, is a tyrant and a bully. He manipulated oversaw ever miuntea (including how many pieces of tp she could wipe her ass with) her entire life to the age of 19 when she escaped his influence of violence, threat and terror and moved in with me. Her father operates from an assumption of absolute Naive Realism wherein, he assumes he sees the world the way it really is and if you don't agree with his take on things, you are wrong. end of story. He operates with the entire world on the three levels of truth. He respects force and obedience above all other attributes. Loving, nurturing, compassion, understanding, empathy, sympathy are all weaknesses to be driven relentlessly from their host as if a disease. He operates on the three levels of truth. he knows the truth and he explains the truth to you fairly, calmly and openly, because he knows the truth and you must as well. if you don't agree can't understand the truth after he has calmly shown you what it is, he then begins shouting and yells the truth at you, in an effort to intimidate you into following the truth even if you don't 'get it'. finally, if these two don't work, he then feels obligated to beat the truth into you, for your own good. To not do this by his own admission, is a dereliction of his duty as one who knows the truth. repeat 2 and 3 as needed. Did she earn this? No. It's just how things were for her. I'm reminded of the impact the following exchange had on me when I heard it and when I recall it now. Having come from a home with such a father as I had, realizing how different it was for others is traumatizing in itself, particularly when it's someone we admire, love and respect. It's from the 1989 movie Parenthood and is a very brief exchange between Diane Weist who plays Helen and Keanu Reeves who plays Todd Higgins. The writing is keen and insightful in the extreme for me. It goes like this: In the kitchen Helen addressing a concern over her son. Helen: I guess a boy Gary's age really needs a man around. Todd: Yea, well... mmm... depends on the man. I had a man around. He used to wake me up in the morning by flicking lit cigarettes at my head. "hey asshole, get up and make me breakfast!". You know, Mrs. buckman, you need a license to buy a dog. You need a license to drive a car. Hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father. here's the scene itself Then there's the Father that I am now, my son is 13. That book is being written...

While going through my Dad's belongings. I tried on some of his shoes. I grinned and chuckled when I found I could not quite fill them.

If necessity is the mother of invention, then laziness is the father. ~ anon

in literal terms what is a body? what is it but a collection of food that is acquired and maintained for a time? this body, that i was taught by my loving materialist father is my most concrete and real 'self' my only real self, how is it thi is comprised only of that which is outside it, that which is not me? that which the materialist considers himself, is comprised only of that which he considers himself not to be. what is not the body, becomes the body this body is a process of the acquisition of food mingling with awareness my body is a collection of ingested food. food that was not my body, before i chewed and swallowed. food that was earth and sunshine and rain. food that was a lively pig. hours ago it was earth and sun and rain, it was broccoli now it is perhaps fingernail and heart tissue and part of a turd what magic is this? to whom, if any does this body or anything belong? where then can it be said that I stop and the rest of the unvierse begins?

In regards to this topic, I hear @rene very clearly. and she's saying...

such a simple joy. teachers arise everywhere... literally all about us... nature always communicating. are we listening? and if we hear, can we comprehend?