Spectrum

Ever Precious Present Perspectives

A picture is worth a thousand words!

Anyone coming from or returning to Big Island around this same time?

If Max didn't strip down he wouldn't be able to make the trip, it would be to much of a drag.

If it was any more obvious it would be against the law.

It seems the fundamental practices of most taoist schools/lineages being rooted in the cultivation of emptiness would compliment instead of inhibit. Obviously you don't put the key in the gas hole or pour dirty oil on your windows to clean them. At tthe point of no return pereferally reference the guide.

Damn plow getting stuck w/ clods... now where are those gold coins supposed to be?

The Spot on Uranus

Plowing a field of cold goins.

The story or the story tellers?

Some call it Art Madness... the artist not creating art.

We'd like to attend this one. Spectrum & Company

Serving up cake. Hold spiraling teacups. Tea is served.

Sounds like something Santa Clause rides on.

What does chocolate frosting sound like?

follow the yellow brick road

Yee Chuan Tao

Guess I'll just have to be there.

We're made of water. Stand there. Yun-Kuan Tzu Chaos- pearl of no price where waters red, the harvest muddy roiled but blinding bright held in the hand like the hand of a lover divines, divines, against what passes in this world for clever no tricks nothing doing. the sun and moon endure their rush and don't grow old. sail backwards? row against the flow? to hell with that. you'd better be known for being quiet clear water-sound fine mountain colors nothing to do with right and wrong bamboo's shade on a rush huts window heres music in a way you cannot say to any man light wind in bamboo deep flowers shadows moving a cup of strong brew a couple of lute chords reveal a dark contrivance hoard marvels I may use dream an empire of ants wake to know the world is vapor is a dream. by willows shade in shadows of the pine back up against all karma stopped the monkey heart is skewered the racing mind, coraled the moon bright, the breeze pure alone i speak of endless life. Han Chung-li an officer of highest rank dreamt an empire of ants and cast the seal of office down straw sandels are light a bramble staff is firm go laughing with the sun and moon to end of endless lift. Lu Tung pin is gone beyond his spirit suns a thousand other worlds merit, fame, and grass and mustard seed the same the old guy took his bramble stauff and smashed up all distinctions. Chang Kua lao popped riding his white ass backwards through illusion born in purple clouds coiled in ruby mist every night he folded that old ass up swallowed it to sleep in bliss. Lan Tsai ho left the common world in her hands the bamboo castinets cold jade shaking heavens gates wobbling the axis of the earth: pure air, bright moon and she, there singing endless life. Old Moon-toad Liu, prime minister of Yen. back from a dream and freed from flowers mysteries departed, took to sea put a snow flake in a rosy stove and wrought a golden image. Kuang Cheng tzu aged 1200 rests in Kung tungs cold white clouds teacher of emperors, teacher of kings heaven and earth were all he needed all things are one within this nameless visitor from nowhere. Old Fan li, preprared the rise of Yueh now floats with the moon at Five Lakes. right and wrong forgetten fame and profit out of mind sounds the flute savors the reed flowers snowing Chang Liang helped raise the Han then cast off all accomplishgment and fame now dwells in mountain blueness munching dragon livers, chewing phoenix eggs made the pill of endless life a bottomless basket full. ancient Lieh Tzu, master of Pu Tien in a breath rode beyond the realm of dark and light called to the Morning Star summoned the Dipper dreamed omens of an Empire awoke And Lang Jan-tzu changed his sack of skin to a toad of gold and flew away ghosts and spirits flew heaven and earth turned white there is a face you could not paint with any colors. my homes in the flowering mountain my joy in the purest idleness in a rush hut by a blue grotto at the end of a crazy winding path at noon I take simple meal and when I'm full I take my staff and wanter to the mountain top and gaze. who envies you oh high and mighty all done up in purple and dangling your bade of rank my heart's at peace I'm satisfied with me there arn't many in the world today to match this crafty rascal. Done with the world and pure as darkness nothing to hold me nothing restrain the old guy here within the grove before blue cliffs the moons companion. mad and singing drunk and dancing smashed, polluted with the wine of endless life. when I'm drunk I sleep and even when I'm not I loll my head and stagger east and west completely shameless there is no spring there is no fall toot toot, woo woo the music keeps me young gathing simples, going home white clouds flying mists melt black mountains and this wandering mystics straight astray blacke apes gall and green birds cry a magic crane goes before me, dancing leads me to my cave. back to the cave pull the brushwood door shut call out the boy and lets play chess if we get sad we'll have a few cups drink toll we trip on our sandals of straw and then fall asleep with our clothes on these peaks and cliffs are strange and rare blue pine and cypress all around it's quiet, few men pass a light hearted sadness to live here distant, at leisure. the flours gone sour the grain in the bin has gone stale my ladles busted, and even my old wooden bols got a hare lip no salf, just a couple of onions contented hearts my portion; it's sweeter than the sweetmeats of the world. in straw sandles and a belt of help in a rush raincoat dangling an old gourd ladle half like a fisherman half like a woodcuter my head like a raspberry patch and my face like a dump I'll bear your laughter. laugh at me, I understand the moon and the wind are my friends I sleep in the clouds I play a jade flute and taste for these may be difficult for you to learn one time hungry next time full wander n my patched old sheep-skin coat with half a brike for a pillow I nap in a heap in a pile of grass listen to them, laughing laugh in you want I understand so I've used up a fortune... I've thought it over carefully, and it doesn't bother me. I'll just straggle down this road 'til I've dance to some paradise.

transpositional polarities

That answers many unasked questions. Thanks again rain. Particularly the info on stirring yin qi. When we're stirring the pot (YCT) it's right over left for males, left over right for females. Opposite for closing up.

The 3rd harmonic (beat) being a binaural rhythm, similar to creating polyrhythmic patterns, but without drums... I think...

If this isn't contemporary mystic creativity I know not what is.