How is it tHat Heating leftovers in tHe microwave for two minutes-stiring Half way- still manages to leave tHe noodles cold and tHe vegetables on tHeir way to tHe worlds favourite cure album?

aaiyaH.

The Fractal Structure of Broccoli Romanesco
A fractal is a shape with structure on all scales of magnification. This vegetable (from the cauliflower family) is self-similar: it is made from parts that have the same shape as the whole.
I'd cook it whole, and have pocket melon for dessert.

passion, to me tonight feels left behind. i'm drained from the dreaming but its all in the breath i'm sure. breathing patterns and yoga, sharing it with someone intimately, exchanging words, promoting circulation, breathing means you're alive. stop breathing and your heart will only beat for so much longer.

my whole grain heating pad is in the microwave and in three minutes it will be on my lap like a cat i'm not allergic to. i'm not cold, it just feels good. a friend of mine has an interview at my place of employment, i figured i'd pass on a resume and return the favour. wish me luck at my second interview if and when i find out about it. i went to visit some friends of mine for the second night this week. they live ten minutes away from me and have a 5 month old offspring who is most fun to squish. however, its the mix of this new life carried by the adult conversation that appeals to me. the kind of adult conversation that finds itself humming quiet riot and the retro remake from donnie darko to soothe the baby to sleep. the stuff that makes "serious" feel normal and funny in a superman t-shirt as opposed to neurotic and over-focused in a suit. i'm discovering that there is a time when you have to become your own role model and start to filter the friends and partners that influence your life. the book of min believes that love is not just about staring at each other, but about facing the same direction. although it fails to mention motion and the survival guide of individual pace, i'm with you all the way.

a girl, a meditation and fear walk into a bar...


this isn't the kind of dream that has an obvious punchline, at least not one that i can get a grip on in light of being mentally paralyzed by it for the time it takes for my conscious mind to realize its awake now.

phase in, fade out, shake the waking stick about...

a tall friend acompanies me to a retreat, a cedar centre of remedy and relaxation. there are no white walls and no easy way out.

i know what waits for me. i warn the man before he starts drumming around me. i tell him, it's too strong. leave it alone. even my dream state is not willing to give in so easily. there is no safe place. i inhale only to exhale a second hesitation as he sets the drum down beside himself on the floor. almost seated he faces me with eyes i recognize in spite of a body i don't. my unformed words are halted by a simple vision of bare bark. a tree of life grown to reveal an empty core. caged by reaching branches - protective bones ill set and fused - shimmers a body of gypsy soft light and mint mystic movement. freshly frosted and swirling, this healing love should manifest mother in the freedom of foliage. instead it speaks in parables of a loss not let go.


behind the vessels of closed eyes, heart and mind make an agreement while the violet light of my memory burns the image of a personal wisdom to remember.

lifted lids allow a bubble to be translated from the light and meditation begins. both guardian and guide have permission to see.
in the far corner of a blurred field i see a blotch. a blackness that i know is the form of a wolf in waiting. frustrated, i am not afraid. amped anger and ego appear as i appear in in the bubble at close range. the manifested self holds a lead stance that will fight to the death. trembling land quiets under a distant paw put forward to match that bet and raise her another step closer.

if you've ever been on drop zone you'll know that the terrifying thrill of the ride is over before you even get a chance to inhale, forget time for screaming.

The high pitched growl cry of a jaguar shatters the sound barrier and in stop motion madness the darkness destroys me with targeted tears to the solar plexus. i'm sure my heart stopped in my sleep. in retrospect i'm thankful that i didn't wake up at this point needing bedtime pants and knowing that "what waits for me is too strong." if any of that bubble was in my control in the seconds i was alive in it, it definitely is out of my dead hands now.


dreaming and staring into this vision ball floating in front of me i've gone into shock, determined to somehow rescue my blood soaked manifested self i reach for the bubble.

the wolf digs deeper into my lower intestine and bears all teeth and gums. for the first time it stares at me directly. the eyes unmistakably tell me, this is mine now, i killed it, you cannot have it back, this is not for you anymore and i hear the spine crack. the more i reach for the part of my soul that kept that wolf far away for so long, my protection, a clear warrior self, my strength, the more violent he shook, like the dog who finally caught that elusive rabbit. screaming like a 4 year old lost in a forest in the dark with no hope of ever finding home i lost it. closed my eyes and bubble drops. delusional i scream nonsense at the meditaion master saying how could you, why would you, i tried to tell you...through distressed breathing i'm screaming and rocking i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead what do i...i'm dead. images of blood, red drooling off teeth, staining snout, its everywhere i can't stop freaking out. For a split second i can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. i wonder if the wolf is the beginning or the end, enemy or friend.

it is not the masters role to interfere, but the guardian has had enough. no nonsense nurturing cradles me shaking up off the couch and tells me the story of fantasia. the ivory tower still stood. what the nothing destroyed, imagination rebuilt stronger and better than ever. as soon as the calm washes over me i black out. waking in dream, holding hands to a chanting voice, our knees feel the vibrations through the floor boards of remedy. shamanic energy, blue lines represented, a circle of dust scattered, followed by a white feathers falling like snow. a blessing. but not specifically for this time, it was a blessing of things to come.and such a still feeling of peace.

still feeling a warm hand in mine and vibrations in my heart i woke up in tears and stayed that way for a good half hour. which is a long time when its 3am and you're alone. you'd think this was a good release or something but i have to tell you it just stirred up shit that no dream can ever fully tackle and has seemed to trigger a 6 night stretch of nightmares and nelly furtado.
i'm not sure which is the lesser of two evils.



Well the dogs were barking at the new moon Whistling a new tune Hoping it would come soon And the sun was wondering if it should Stay away for a day Til the feeling went away And the sky was falling on the Clouds were dropping and the rain forgot how to bring salvation and the dogs were barking at the new moon Whistling a new tune Hoping it would come soon So that they could die.

hope you enjoyed the story kiddies.

coral sweat pants and a cozy white on white mug assure that hot cherry drugs will soothe a sore throat and send sleep soon. With a friendly blue whisper from the softest security for the holidays, i'll be out in no time. or now. meaning holiday reflections will continue. goodniiight...