releasing flow, receptive absorption.

Dear God make my giving and my taking change forms.

May the giving shift from a pushing forth what is mine,
to a releasing flow through me what is, was and always will be yours.

May the taking shift from a grabbing what I want or think I need,
to a receptive absorption of whatever You flow to me.

And ultimately through me.

For me there is time.
A time for this and a time for that.
For Me, there is no time.
All is here now, though there is no now and no here.
Only Now. And. Here.
No tea, no pee,
Know tea, know pee.

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Formaldehyde Fetus (and other memories from the hall where my locker was)

The everlasting recompensatory statute of ali b’masa was passed today. Finally passed in this ever pre-set world of over compensation and bar standarization.

Oh how the hills were emboldened. Alive. Sent over every state. Halleluja.

Michael and Rhoda Boda-Schorr welcomed their new son Gabriel into this world. Oh how did they! Gabriel blew dat trumpet horn late yesterday afternoon with darkness comin’. Brother lent a helpin’ hand and sister helped for trim dat boat. Mazel tov to the whole family – Hallelujah!

And finally, this. News leaking out from the bottom of a refrigerator was stopped. Oh stopped indeed with a crimping off of water supply to the automatic ice maker. Sales on good old fashioned ice cub trays spiked, though not those old aluminum kind with the handle that you flip in order to shift all the little rudders. Remember those!?

The new trash can turns out to be the very same smoker’s tool that once adorned my parent’s room, ripe with the smell of molding pipe tobacco. Oh the sharp tang did stain my heart.

And then there was Dr. Stampers fetus in formaldehyde — oh what a jar of wonder THAT was. Forever burned into my brain, the image of that ghoulish greenish whitish little fellow has gone a long way to improving my patience with the pro-lifers out there. Indeed, rights advocate though I am, they DO have a point.

And as for Miss Pancione, what could I do? These are the only pants I own.

And the other guy? I forget his name. He told me that he didn’t teach. Teaching implies learning. He merely presents — why did he admit that to me? Tenure is a strange and unusual thing, as supportive of honesty as it is destructive to productivity. And is it worth the trade off? Perhaps it is after all.

Finding our way to the middle, only to discover that the middle is the very most flawed of positions. No, no. Find that precariously balanced mishmash of all extremes and you’re well on your way to a very real search for truth.

And enough of all these fetuses, bastardized negro spirituals and enacted enactments. It’s time to mark a check on the to-do list of life. And be — as it were — done.


A Search for Romance Ever

Beauty, my dear friend is something that hits your eye but can, at the same time, dreadfully hurt your hand.

My dear father explained
years ago in my ladhood
That beauty is in the eye of the man holding the bee.

Strange though it may seem
This is what my father taught.
And he did seem quite confident on this point.

Though his premature death
made further explanation unavailable
I have taken upon myself the practice of putting every girl I date to the venerable bee test.

Curious to them
as it is painful to me
it keeps my hands to myself at least for a time. They seem to appreciate that.

With that bumble or wasp held firmly in palms’ cavern
I gaze upon the object of my suspected affection.
Putting an end to conjecture, I subject her.
To the view amidst the familiar tears
that well up in my eyes as my insectual guest loses patience with his entrapment.

I open my hands and set him free
and through the tears of pain I gaze upon my gal.
If through blur I concur with previous assessment.
The evening continues.
Though first mendicament.
Ah and if per chance her countenance is lacking.
As I release the bee I send her packing.

‘Tis an odd ritual I don’t deny.
But father planted the seed, so who am I?
To walk away from such a thing.
Simply because I dread a sting?

For the love of my life I continue the search.
And this trusty test won’t leave me in the lurch.
I’m sure it’ll lead me and I’ll long to hold her.
For beauty, I know, is in the eye of the bee holder.


Dripping wet but out of the pool

Bob my friend, calm down. You are dripping wet, it is true. But Bob, five minutes ago you were in the pool itself! You are so much drier than you were then, and you keep getting drier by the moment. Bob my friend, you are moving in the right direction.

During your days in the pool you were completely enveloped by wetness. You barely understood that you were wet. It was so essential a part of your environment that it barely deserved notice. Ah but now, Bob, with all the progress you have made, you are living on dry land, surrounded by air. Breathable air. And now, dear Bob, now in this world of freedom breathable you find that you have an unneccessary parasite traveling with you here. It is that pesky water from the pool of your past. And so yes, you are wet. Very wet in fact.

But the true state of things with you isn’t wetness. You are a man of land and air now. The water will evaporate in time. Perhaps it needs a little help from an absorbant cloth or a warm breeze. But the water isn’t the state of things with you today. The pool is of the past. Focus on the water and you are likely to say, “fuck it, I’m wet anyway. I may as well jump back in the pool.” But you are one of us now, Bob. You are a free man. A living breathing man of the earth and air. Welcome. Welcome.

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Let the Towel do the Drying

How could I have missed it?! And you! How dare you write me off as a madman for what you think you saw. It’s not that I was intentionally tearing the skin from my body with that towel. Aye, I thought I was merely drying myself as all others do. Nothing you taught me hinted at the fact that towels do the drying. You made it seem that this was something I myself was responsible to accomplish.

What a discovery I have made! Such a beautifully organized world this turns out to be! The preordained physical properties of my precious towel make it so that all I need do is touch that blessed object gently to my skin — drag just a bit — and the drying happens magically. By itself!!! Your eyes tell me that you think me foolish for not knowing this until today. How dare you hold yourself blameless! Why did you deny me the truth for so long?

And what’s this? A knife too? Indeed it is so! The knife cuts when placed with just the slightest force on that which is to be cut. Be it steak, bone, wrist or throat. The sharpness of the knife, like the absorbancy of the towel, requires only minor participation and cooperation from me in order to do its job. And how much else in the world works this way? What other facts of worldly functionality have escaped my introspection until this day?

Oh what a fool I have been! I have been working too hard for so very long. Unbeknownst to my struggling, striving soul, this world is set before me in such a way as to require so little of me. Gentle participation alone would have taken me so far. Why did I not know the power of simple acknowledgement and sensible use of the properties of the material world? I exerted myself so forcefully all these painful years. And for what? The world does not require fevered exertion from me. I need no longer play the ferocious slayer nor the relentless defender. Oh what joyful relief! Rest is at long last a possibility.

But it is not yet time for rest. For I have been grossly wronged — by you and by the others. Why was I not told that my true responsibility is but gentle effort, persistent willingness, sensible use of self and object? You and they have denied me vital, vital information. What a dear and painful price I have paid for your omission. Be they acts of neglect of or conspired viciousness, you shall not have them for nothing. What a fool I have let you shape me into indeed. What a mad mad of pain and now wrath you have created. Woe to you that denied me the truth and set me on this frenzied course. Woe to you indeed!!

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Transactions. Is that what this whole big thing called life comes down to? Is it really the case, Joe wondered aloud, directing his gaze deep into the reflection of his own eyes in his grimy bathroom mirror.If nothing happens does that mean that nothing is really happening? I reject that, his bleary eyes said back to him, coming to life through the haze of this morning’s glossy redness. The world is what the world is, irrespective of our little agreements to transact.

And yes, it does seem that the question has merit. For it is as true in intellectual discourse, emotional exchange and romantic endeavor as it is in commerce that so much of our intereactions with others come down to negotians. Little verbal and non-verbal conversations that ultimately lead to a transaction or an agreement not to transact. But if there is a certain eternal, non-physical reality, call it truth or created wisdom of truth, then that something exists in the same measure — measurelessness to be more accurate — before during and after transaction.

Says Joe back to himself in the mirror: “it is in the moments of transactions that conduital windows are sprung open through which wisdom of truth gains potential for revalation in this time bound material plain. Transactions are only of this limited world, but their occurance here is our version of change. And in that moment of transition, the opprotunity for the revalation of truth in this world is born. There is a momentary opening, a possibility for dedensification.

But Joe’s search was for something larger, some truth beyond that both governs our transactional experience and transcends it. He always maintained that he could sense the presence of that certain something beyond anything. That nothingness that is more something than all the somethings combined. And yet he could never defend adequately what it meant to “sense” something. Intuition is immeasurable and ultimately undocumentable. Modern psychology is adept at swallowing it into its own world of rationale or irrationale thought. Modern neuroscience posesses equal facility and stealing intuition’s thunder, claiming micro-interactions among brain chemicals and electrical processes as the true and physical seat of all that is mental, emotional or spiritual. And yet, belief in that non rationale, non empirical perceptor we variously call intuition, vibe or spirit remains strong as ever. It is the great in-between. The truth greater than all other truths. The easiest to debunk but the hardest to derail. It is as inborn as any human impulse. It trumps cogito ergo sum a thousand times over. It may indeed be nothing more than an amorphous amalgom of experience and reason but then again it may truly be a thing unto itself. Never mind that parsing, for it is certainly ours and here to stay. Be it illusion or ultimate truth, it cannot be brushed aside with accuracy or even utility. It is the essence of all perception.

And Joe certainly didn’t see it as an amalgom of anything. He knew it to be the grogging apprehension tool by which humans could know truth and transform themselves into channels for the wisdom of truth. He knew with certainty that somewhere in the hazy shade of

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Cook So Long

If per chance the rain should wane
Would we dane
To go out on the lane

And purchase grain
Which we’d subsequently drain
And cook so long we’d go insane?



this has been the greatest and weirdest journey I ever could have imagined. I’m still a whack job, but I’m living MY life now, not some autopilot bullshit death mission.

thanks my brother. we’re all special. the deal is to get real inside and try to let it out, past all the ego-insecurity shit. and fuck man, to get some godamn sleep!


What is Religion?

For a long time I practiced a brand of “religion” all my own. The 12-step approach to spirituality gave me permission to sidestep any baggage a might have about any particular dogma and look inward and upward for guidance. This was at once freeing and perplexing.

my G_d your G-d — honest belief that there IS some objective reality — wanting the “real G_d”; plus, polytheistic undertone bothered me.

cultural pull — Jewish identity and pride.

Spirituality vs. Religion — does it really have to be vs. — think DC Deli — does that have to be how it is?

Torah Judaism’s allure — bringing it all together…..

But then, cultural stuff, social pressures — personal char defects — lox and bagel and the black hat

sprituality, religion, culture — structure support and accountability feedback loop. NONE OF THEM ARE THE IT!

According to Robert M. Seltzer in Jewish People, Jewish Thought, “Religion is man’s effort to elicit meaning and value from confrontation with the holy. Through acts of worship he enters into formal communion with the divine; through myths and theology he seeks to explain the relation between the divine and the actualities of life. Proceeding one step further, religious literature collects, records, and organizes this lore and teaching, enabling man’s positive respoknse to the holy to be transmitted over the span of gnerations.”

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Jimmy K., You and Me

To my dear friend –
If I have my facts straight, it was exactly 60 years ago today Jimmy Kinnon got clean in Alcoholics Anonymous. Without his efforts, and those of many others, Narcotics Anonymous as we know it today would likely not exist. I never met Jimmy, but singing his praises is not really my point anyway.

The fellowship that was born from Jimmy’s vision has become an absolute lifeline for so many of us. It has saved our physical lives and set out guideposts that lead us on an awesome spiritual journey when we follow them. It is our support network, our social club and our refuge from the storms of life and the storms of our minds. NA was there for me when I was in the worst trouble I had ever known, and it has been there for time after time after time since then. The fellowship is made up of people — no one person can consistently provide for the needs of others, but together — as NA — we can and do every single day.

It is through NA that my relationship with G_d has become such an important part of my life. My emotional and physical health is nurtured daily. My deepest friendships are with fellow NA members. All my other relationships would be impossible without the spiritual, mental and emotional “nourishment” I get in NA. My children — who bring me so much joy and sense of purpose — would not ever have been born without Narcotics Anonymous. And you and I — we would almost definitely never have met.

So today I remember and am grateful to Jimmy K. But from a broader perspective I am grateful to G_d for what He has done and is doing in my life right now — and I recognize the massive role that Narcotics Anonymous plays in that process. I thank G_d for the open, warm and inviting atmosphere that greeted me when I found my way to Narcotics Anonymous and for the opportunity to help create that atmosphere for others. I thank G_d for every part of my life today — for the bitter and for the sweet — and I thank Him for you. May we remember — at least for a moment every now and again — not to take each other for granted.

Feel free to pass this message on.

© All material Copyright 2009 by Foxx Falcon