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Friday, February 24, 2012

Blogstream'd _ Honored Guest _ Bodily Submitted

                                                                                                          The title above,  does not fully explain my purpose.
 I am beginning _To begin_again.
I have to say _ that I once had
a blog called 'Indubitable Paradox'.   It was on a blog site called 'Blogstream' , which allegedly had 73,000 bloggers, but there were  really only a core group... of possibly 500 bloggers _at best.

I will over time develop and find a 'best way' to present the materials... I moved from 'Blogstream', almost a year ago.
Every blogger there was given a heads up on the closing  of 'Blogstream'.  All  of us had to move our materials to other sites... and some made an orderly transition and others just disappeared. It was all supposed to collapse...   on a certain day- April 30; and I waited until the very last hours to move as much as I could to a WordPress 'docking' blog, which became more like an unheated storage time went on.

Everything on that 'glacialtides' blog is in disorder.                     I am starting over again, and that's what excites me.                I have not written anything new, yet, but, that will come. What is present there is forward to backwards and upside down and all the pictures and music are somewhere else,     so, it is not a blog, but, it is kind of a blog; and it will exist_as it is... until I do a bunch of shuffling and build out on this blog, which existed before, but really had no life_ To speak of ...             For a very long time_17 comments _ In 6 years.

So all credit to the John on this post.  I hope that I hear from him again, .... someday.
This post_ Is really just comments we made _                          This post was reconstructed from a back and forth between John and I.
After_  he had written a post on his blog_
 'The White Lodge'        

 John was certainly one of the reasons I became fearless_
For a time

 By no means was I or am I thinking myself_the best blogger or anything _ Out of the ordinary, ... especially now, but,  still... I took it all in.  Blogstream  was it's own unique place in time.                                            

...and I met on 'Blogstream' _some of the most important people I have ever met.

I say that with all  humility, because I know there may be questions about what I am attempting to do.  At this moment_ this is my best effort _ To recombine... the elements, that I experienced. Below is an exchange between my pseudonym 'trust the rust', and the other blogger_                the one, the only_ John, who went by the pseudonym_
 'John, the Squabbler'....  of  'The White Lodge'

Comment stream Begins below.... not important in any real sense, except that once upon a time we believed in the ethereal moments of such exchange.

Bigger than all the world around us is God.
We can be assured that we are in the presence of God.
Even when we actively digest the moments in a sense of disdain.
We are eating_ what is the food of our life.
The breath of the substance, that has our true interlude.
Center on_ the narrowness of the great door.
There is alive in our world, a new way of understanding.
What has already been before, is home again_ at this very door.
I am unwinding, my friend. I see the life of which, you profess.
I understand, and not by mistake_take it all in.
You are to me_ my great teacher.
The great teacher- I never had before, because I was not ready.
All love goes to everyone in the room, but there is no secret_
… to the address of this path. I am at the door.
This is a real request _ not of the changing_
… of what you have already been.
Maybe I should run away. I can’t stretch anymore. Hope!
I am growing by leaps and bounds. Maybe you can’t see that,
but I have grown in my degree of real trust.
This address comes off the head of my eternal pen,
… and reads across my mind as a tone.
Contentment, not in the end result, but in the sequencing of events.
The banding to the moral bounds of servitude.
I am a servant of God’s dear enterprise.
I am not a sequester of dim similitude.
To step away and take the lesser path is no longer possible.
Strong in my contract to achieve the life of these words.
What resides in deep contrast to not having been___
… is a new residence.
The greater rooms of interior space.
The walls around the head of the movement.
Nature is in prime contrast_ to what, was said.
Without the life of the mind, What?
The spirit of hope for what lies ahead. Encouragement!
My life, now bespeaks further growth in me,
… and more courage, than I have ever known.
The vehicle of this love contrasts with energies of the river’s flow.
It is musical_ without a doubt, and simple,
but it is pure and full of hope.
And then the end rolled round, and I said….
I must go to bed, but more than anything.
The words, you have written back to me_ over time.
Have changed. They have been sacred vessels finding the worth within.
I can last, because finally I have arrived at the simple equation.
Love equals the act. The act is_the action of time taken. In presence.
One moment at a time_ in the lineage of now.
The pleasing permanence of love allows simplicity and certainty.
I am hopeful, that everything I bring is still allowed.
Everytime, I bring what is happening within the heart of me.
As it comes out from the within of this hope to be,
I find the new results_ to be and not to be, but they are always just what is happening right now, and when they get their final position they will grow into the purity of not-indifference.
The breath of the not-breath would only suffocate me.
Like you said, the ugliness of the not-culture,
Should no-longer_ be said. or spoken.
Somehow, our sequenced births, call,
our hearts to rise
Beauty of happiness.
Pure morality of hope and heart breaths.
Grow to realise the living End.
Bunches of beauty and loveliness on this great Valentine’s day__
To everyone.
Trust ////Shine

by trust the rust  on Thursday February 14, 2008 @ 2:15 AM  

Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, TR. You have written a masterpiece here which I have read many times without being able to summon the words to reply. As honored guest co-author of the White Lodge you must by now have learned my limitations as a writer occasionally silence me. I usually resort to joking around in that case – change the subject, you know? But I can’t do that here, in this case. I’m too abashed, as it were, by its content. Remember always: What you write here is at least two-thirds of why everybody else bothers to read this blog. You live here – in the cyber ‘here.’ You have a permanent seat in the Lodge, and it wouldn’t be what it is – whatever it is – without you.
See, I had been struggling with something meaningful to say for so long – but there I said it, just like that.

by John, the Squabbler on Tuesday February 26, 2008 @ 7:29 AM

A Hoot owl melange is a term that means_ disordered order of a suspect nature, but certainly worth review. Unequivocally, I am happy to hear all that you said, and it is in the bank with a memory stamp. I certainly don’t take the position, that my place or chair is on the order of that great a portion, but in the company you keep__I am most happy to have acquired a chair and a view and a frame of reference.
I am most happy to participate and hopefully gain experiences, that equal the broad dimensions of this sphere.
In all actuality and with every intention…I must insist that this
is your domain and it receives any and all honorariums,ipso facto, with the greatest of ease. You have made a place for us all…quite unequaled…to my knowledge. I am small fish by any measure, but here I feel the greatness of possibilities and the gentle persuasion of hope. It is your rightful gain…that we acknowledge your quest. Any and all purchase of place and time is done without need. I am certain and ‘matter-of-factly’ forged to remember the place of this point in time,… as a favorite place to be in physical or cyber or just plain old memory.
As for me the world has narrowed to the looking glass world of the lodge, not entirely, but almost completely. Sounds odd….I have not decided to be a writer of the things I write, but I have come to know a free and a safe and a true part of my life’s experience that is coming closer to being___by choosing to be here, when I can.
The real home of this man_ is to know he has been listened to, as a fellow journeyman, who is coming to know the way of being in the Now, as a tool for viewing and saving our world from being extinguished
for a lack of interest. I want and will speak to that, but no more for now. Have to feed our girl and then off to dance. Just wanted to show we have some ‘culture’…ballet movie,’Turning Point’, last night. A late seventies herb ross movie, got eleven academy nominations, It was like the Poseidon Adventure, melodramatic, but dancing superb-o. Jane Austin, the night before,…our girl was not in the room, toobad.
Life is good. Mostly I want to be in the yard or garden. Dan calling,
up at school. gotta run…later gator…TR
by trust the rust  on Tuesday February 26, 2008 @ 6:56 PM   (del)

Whew – thank God it’s you, TR. Despite your explanation – and I cannot find fault with it in any way – I still have absolutely no idea what an hoot owl melange is. I know this is due to my own inadequacies. More importantly, that there is a ballet version of The Poseidon Adventure is very exciting – much better than the ice show.
You will be pleased to know that I am coming out of my funk. Coming out of it with me are Bernie, Bootsie, George and company. Who says a funk band can’t play rock? You know we’re gonna rock and roll this town. We’re gonna rock and roll around. Just watch me dance, watch me dance…
Anyhoo, I haven’t lately felt equal to the challenge of responding intelligently to much that has been said here. I feel like Ozzy coming out of a drink-induced stupor for just long enough to say something unintelligible to the party in progress, a mere figurehead who is only capable of a cameo appearance. It is a personal unraveling of sorts. The big questions have answers no one will like – myself least of all – so I’m thinking if I ignore them they’ll go away. That’s my real life interfering with my creative process, the silly thing. One day to wake up in the Lodge of my dreams – ah, that is my most fervent wish!
It may also be that it’s bloody February. I mean, why do we have to do this every year? There oughtta be a law. Perhaps February will be illegal in the Obama Nation.
Well, all’s well. It always was. Where was I?

by John, the Squabbler  on Tuesday February 26, 2008 @ 7:47 PM

Diana Krall "Just The Way You Are"

Creation Comes...

  • Through These Hopes…


        Creation, Creation, Creation
        What a beginning_
        I just love to talk about you.
        Through it All


       It's about__ how I miss you...
       And How I would die_
       If I never read your voice again.
       I say this_I miss you more than life.

       What? Oh! Where is?_my Why.

        What becomes?_ Of how we become,
       And then,
         Who knew__ I would be true

          I am in this pain,
           so soft and pure,
            Because, I hope__ I

  hatever comes now has its own design.
Because I love_ who I remember....
The way you held me with your words
I hold a memory still of_,
Where the love of your heart is real.

I Loved someone__  who came through the circle of hope.
Still reality holds my place... thankfully
I roll with the reel of life and give everyday to my lot.
Knowing _There is one special hope _ In my heart,

What becomes of these?
I only know how to love this way.
It is free, and so giving,
The delight...,
I have for the soft reveal,
and the light of pleasing

I am in my element and it grows in my heart,
even when I am away,
and all that has been, and
will never be lost.
Is all for you, 

You should know
that our love opened me
to the heart of being_
Forever the why _Of the what
 I became.

And then their was Rust, who thought a few steps and paces ahead the other day and gave of himself__ on to the page to work up a pattern of belief that is just right, But what is right__ that he trusts his heart and so with no subtraction he gives the start and the stop of the love that flows through him on that day and in this reveal. He__ flows not perfectly or without recompense, but only as __  jazz, fully on and in a place, that is always just ahead and into the thought that what depends on this__love__ is my heart and the love it has for you.

It begins::: Out of the edges of prescription
The authenticated describer lives
Unbuttoning from… a long sleeved silken shirt_undone.

After a long dry spell
He feels the rain of thoughts
pouring down_unaware of the
derivative factors of intent and substitution.
Nevertheless, The armchair coordinator
deems a certain desperation to repair.
No longer married to  further
degrees of delineation
He factors  his purpose and patrol.
He knows where he lives
They have come to receive
the sacrament of nature.
Out of the fateful depths of the West.
Comes our presence in the Halls of Reunion
Which hastens the heart's intent.
What___has come full circle?
Waiting is over.
The burden has been filled.
It is heightened and holds our great esteem.
Born to breathe the vision,
Taken... soon done.
No rehearsal now.
Breathing reality__final, first, and true.
Run, Ran, Running__Done.
No one can do what you do
The way you do   _What is__
Just, but not just,  always you.
Thinking past the reasonable end.
When is the time__ without peace?
Darkness comes, but not sleep.
Night shades on the sun.
I give all of me to _
this end,

For,  then it comes down to you.
 I can’t explain.
The balance of me is you.
 My belief is secure...the truth.

Over and over, I have come here,
and then I walk away, because I can’t explain.
Why__I am not that brave.
The great reveal was having
this kind of love__
I keep thinking _You know,
What would... You say?...
If you could hear me now?
Was I wrong to love the dream and forget__

What was real?  Is it all the same?
In the end.... It is hard to explain
the depths of the love that came.                                                                                                                                 
Anymore. It is all love,
 and what isn’t__
Is soon to become the Hope for Wonder
In the world.

Where_ There is no hate Anymore.
I should write songs.
I’ve never said that, but words become the love,
that becomes_ from all our hopes and beauty,
and the love of loving you.
This thought. Depends__Deepens.
From loving you, I became real.
This is where the road runs off,
where I will leave it.
I wrote:Lemmings on the run…Nice.
Listen with untoward distraction.

Holding my place. Coming undone.
Visiting traffic driven outward.
Stop__ Go__ Stop_ Gap!
Nothing left to save.
Order and reunion saved.
Together as One
Falling over
Needing substitution,
at last
Assured of their goal.
Nothing this good can last.

Sweet boy, Don’t lose faith.
Except, in the acts of love.
In the exchange of prayer.
When in belief and faith in
Something greater__
Than Ourselves.
Factored in the Truth of Life.
Love Assures Hope.
Hope Assures Faith.
And Faith Assures Love
Believed_ Knowledge_ Reveals
Who’s Kingdom Comes?
Saves the disposition.
The long awaited factors.
Lost was__Not__
What Is__
What is...
Hard _Weighs_on the chest.
What lifts, then releases, as
Belief begins.

Solitude of Peace within.
The vibrancy of youth

The unbelievable victory of faith.

All won on this one day,

When in one second, one minute, one hour, one day,

 What if ?
It takes as long as it takes.

All of the years that have gone by.

We can do what we have always __

Wondered_ why?
You choose to live.
Wholly and ably with
Strength and Hope.
The wisdom of your heart

What has to be done_
To remember.
The story of Heaven
and of Love.
Unbounded feelings of Hope

The gift from
A Friend.
The Real You.
Unbound and Free
... Give.
Love Always.
Your every act

the One.

True Hearts