YESTERDAY 8 months ago

Kelly Madison is posted because she was the first
smiling face I saw online this morning.

"There is a lot I've said about Education, but the less said about it reveals the most about it. "

I am sitting at my desk on, what I just heard on the television is, the last day of fall. It is the 30th day of November 2012. I am writing today, and you are reading this on the 26th of June next year. If you read this the second it came up it is 8:56 AM. In a novel sense this is time travel. What it is is time manipulation. Playing with perceptions is to write upon the stars, and upon the Earth. Play with perceptions is to write from the past directly into the future. It is a direct penetration into the folds of existence, and a probing finger into the belly of questions about the movements within and between worlds. It is not unlike the mysterious ability of anyone to stand in the dark of night in the mountains, or the open plains anywhere in the world in the present moment looking up at the stars to see the past, and within their being; their centered being see, dream and project into the future. Being in 3 places at one time is the minimum capacity of understanding about Time average people have about the illusion of time. It is the fact and reality of worlds that separates and frightens average souls from the perceptions of children and masters accessing worlds with ease, and confidence.

On the other side of the views into realms of life are people studying themselves as we are looking at ourselves to 'see' with the depth of the Present into the wellspring of multiple existences upon and within the Earth realms. It is the concentric circles that confound average minds, and inform the terror of linear minds thinking they can contain the forces of change, movement and transformation. It is an innocent acknowledgement, on their part, to the mysterious things around our terrestrial lives, but the fears of linear, and conservative minds retards growth, and narrows children, and religious people to the small patches of Earth in front of them. They can't see in other worlds.

There are millions of people today reeling in disbelief in the wake of Romney's loss to President Obama! It is astounding on several levels the most profound of which is the deep reluctance of his like-minded followers to look squarely in the face of a long time coming change in the United States: the shift in demographics. American's might is questionable. Looking into the illusions we've supported ourselves is a frantic nervousness in the tones of American diplomacy, and the resistant elements within the Republican party to admit it needs to protect the whiteness of what they feel makes America great! Denying it has been a haphazard joke, and millions of us suffer from the brunt of the joke. Racial tensions have not subsided; inequality is the definitive quality of reform in education, services, and the infrastructure, which suffers in silence. The collapse of bridges, and roads will jar Congress into late action. Right now the minimal and dismal attention to the structure of the roads, and what physically holds the country intact is numbed into silence with enormous arrogance, and a need to control selfishly.

The selfishness in the halls of Congress, and the rooms of corporate boardrooms are the trademark of our country, and I don't see the spiritual, and economic pillars of the country changed by June of next year. It isn't feasible because Americans prefer to try and solve problems from the surface. If we did we'd restructure the structures.

 But, if I am dead in June it will mess with reader's head if they personally know me. It will be an "Oh, shit!" moment. But for now I am alive and it is the last day of last November, and I am writing in my office. My cat, Teacher, is to my left on my bookcase looking out the window on a chilled afternoon. It is 1436 hours. Teacher is sitting on my Coyote skin in deep contemplation as I am myself deeply contemplating the simple things of my life that bring me joy, and mystery to that joy.

I'd stepped outside a little while ago wrapped up in my black cape I've had since I was young in North Africa. Our postman is a Black woman, a rather good looking one, with a full deep brown-colored face, and a loud embracing laugh. It's funny. Not 16 years ago mail carriers would be engaging in conversations, and listening to portable radios. Now, they are on phones. The sound is different. There are more monologues in public, less communication, more selfishness, and fears have grown like weeds in an unattended field.

I am moving away from working with disturbed youth into the light of children full of light who want to learn, and I'm developing relationships with white facilitators in the peace keeping field in large part because of the disillusionment Black Americans seem to give credit and credence to, and the commitment in our circles to not growing in the deepest, and more creative ways. Well, I could go on a bit, but my eyes are tired, and I need to rest my mind, and my spirit. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 11.30.12

Brent Morales Foto

"A sweeping gesture is the initial gaze into this woman's presence, and the gasp comes from not believing, and from believing what is captured by the photographer, and what the model has within her composure is the butterfly flutter of the song she vibrates, and the type of prose that begets the start of something new to arise from the comfortable places where creativity is dormant.

In her face is the beginning of understanding beautiful moments, a beautiful woman, a song whispered in the clouds, and the breath of Life, so short, but expanded by the beautiful things women consciously nurture and arouse with the vision and inspiration of their souls!" - Gregory E. Woods (11.30.12)