finding self altruistically

Stars in your eyes.

We are individually symbolic of the universe as a whole.  Today I ask of you to think of the human eye.  Think of the metaphors which speak to what we know of the eye beyond biology.  Of how they are known for aspects such as sparkling, as being windows to the soul, beholders of apples, how we hold views of perspective, and sight being dependent on light.  Of how they are thought of as perfectly spherical but embody the form of an atom when considered on a quantum level, of how closely an iris resembles nebula and how similar the pupil is to our understanding of a black hole.  How observable light, energy, matter and time all bend as they approach a point where they utterly disappear into a space of such alien density the laws of science are assumed to no longer apply.  Now, once I reach a vantage point to view all these factors it seems fairly clear that all this force pulling everything inward must outlet somewhere.  Which would liken visual observation to a wormhole, all said forces undergoing some uncomprehended ordeal and then spewing from hand, or mouth, or (my personal favorite) somewhere in the vicinity of the pineal gland.  So in my formulated microcosm which allows me to accept and postulate  this formulated macrocosm I have developed a mantra.  What is shown, what is seen, the hard to fathom in between.

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Scars, wrinkles, and stretch marks.


I am sketching the outline of the skin as our bounds we have confined ourselves to by constructs. Think about the way we think of life as having skin, the way for mankind it implies such ramifications for humans as having such traits and their comparable moral constructs such as warmth, nerves, hair or scales as protection, it being porous and the largest organ on our corporeal form. The largest organ on our corporeal form. Skin is essential to life as we think of it, and there are noble constructs. In my opinion Art, Science, Music, Language and Love just about cover it. Think about the signs of aging and that we have already discovered the youngest stars have the brightest lumosity. Acknowledge the properties of skin, the pigment affects on color and freckles * Think about skin’s different associations applied to people. Think about hair going grey, falling out, having applications in the dominance of genetic traits. Think about how much play it has in an evolutionary sense altogether. Have you ever learned that some aboriginal humans have a different chromosonal makeup than our own? Here is a link with a brief summary of this idea.

There are multiple characteristics I believe we could selectively breed in mankind to induce this next step in evolution. I respect any attempt for us to step through and ride on the spiral of our divinity past corporeal bounds. In a nod to current events, I understand that White, American, Female, Intelligent and being on Earth in the age of Technology are the privileges which allow me to put this much of my energy into considering the intangible. I am also unwilling to allow of those lines to divide my view on every individual life being absolute divinity incarnate. Back to topic, in relevance to constructs we connotate with skin, I believe mixed race and red hair could somehow be scientifically backed as factually progressive.
Math is not my strong point. (see p.s.)
I think the Fibonacci sequence can somehow be applied to what is mathematically known of DNA sequencing to prove my theory in each of these markers I and others have so far conceived. The rarity of individuals with red hair on this planet is staggering and extreme. I must insist that I am onto something here as my skin has no large area free of the tale of the truth inside needing to step through.  I have suf
fered from skin allergies, psoriasis, and am considered high risk for skin cancer.
(P.S. I feel like math is a construct only used to explain other constructs and therefore consider it skin pigment in my overall view, but I feel science is a noble enough construct I ought not begrudge the crutch as long as I remain

Bright Red Noses

If you can smell what I am stepping in, the scent being compassion. The nose, so close to a brain, and so easily broken or misled.  We look down them at times, nostrils oft flare in anger, and desperation has a notorious stink.  I think I personally have chosen those people whom  others to some degree pass over or deliberately turn away from.  I smell roses even when all I see are thorns at times but I digress.  I think healthy souls smell compassion for ourselves and others, equally through both nostrils.  As concurs with my (loose) theory regarding human symmetry, the right side representing perception of/toward other beings and the left perception of/toward self.  Since approximately 2004 I have had a deviated septum which causes my air from my left nostril to travel inward only through my right, doubling the workload.  I lost my path to spiritual awareness, at times forgot me.  Forgot being. Smelled little but what equals antiseptic over rusted trolley wheels in an abandoned hospital corridor.
 Recently in my life there was a day in which my nasal passages were forced open and that day I was exposed to the pizza-in-the-oven scent of my husband, the greenest green grass and recharged batteries smell of Toby, Sebastian`s powder pufts, and Christi`s beans and cornbread and just a tuft of hay, as well as the cinnamon tickle of the TV shows ‘Cosmos’, ‘Mike Tyson Mysteries’ and ‘Preacher’. The roses I have smelled since have been an olfactory cacophony of familial love over all mixed among the scent of Mike Tyson’s pigeons and a waft of intrigue from the simple sweat of a primitive urge, Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s snow-sneeze-stardust smells, warm breath of dog fur and the linger of wet ink and ancient paper tomes, and I have found myself stopping often at the rose bushes Joe Gilgun grows on.  I watch him in Preacher and get the scent of blood, coffin dust, and hot lead mingled with the echo of Ambrosia from an angel’s wings. I watch him in the “Tiny Legs” video and get the smells of makeup, flour, and the earthly odor of determination as he stoically continues to sing in the face of everything life throws at him. I intend to watch both Emmerdale and Coronation Street, although I have never been a Soap fan, I am more than willing to open mindedly view his performance.  I began watching ‘Misfits’ in order to have more of his influence and fell in love with the brilliance of conception and character realism as well as the deviation from American formatted programming. I watch season three and smell jars of lightning bugs and cut grass blades, tattoo ink, hamster shavings, bananas, grape jelly, summer-night-hot honeysuckle, musty bins in dark corners, cat urine, french toast and rubbing alcohol.  Watch the show until season three and also meet characters named Rudy so fantastically and honestly given life through Joe Gilgun. I realized by the end of his first episode he was portraying more than what we understand as bi-polar disorder. The character in whole is viewed as a misfit for having a compass`ion, a nose of such extraordinary and incomprehensible ability that it takes three of him to personify that potential.  I have never wholly identified with a character more, and if I may be so bold, never more personally identified with an individual’s art. I have Rudys of my own, but more on that another time.  (Island of Misfit Toys)  In whole, I do not believe the power portrayed by the three Rudies (Yes, you caught me, I have no idea which is the correct tense of pluralization, so I shall be ambiguous and perhaps it will be seen as clever, but then she says something to then undermine the entire thing, classic.) to be aspects of a sick personality, I believe they are universal aspects of intellect through the filter of personal experience.  I feel his characters respectively show the three necessary pieces to a whole healthy mind. (1:Cognition or Think, 2: Emotion or Feel, and 3:Volition or Do.) I believe Joe Gilgun is expertly portraying what I have experienced, which is known in some circles as disorganized schizophrenia where all exist in one being with an extreme level of disconnect.  I am healing well.
I hope all the Rudies wind up holding hands, together, facing out to the world. Then I hope the world gives him a hug. Solidarity is my thing, y’know?


20151225_124415 This blog is the story of life viewed in the light of a binary solar system of the highest lumosity with a third equally bright satellite with an intertwined orbit.  My beliefs, my views, my thoughts, my dreams.

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