I didn’t post yesterday, the first time in over six months.  I wanted consistency but felt stuck on the image from the day before of people living cheek by jowl in tents.  There was nothing to say.  

I had planned to post on how I was a boat lifted up and down on moving waves, but then an image of the RMS Titanic popped into mind, and the next thing I knew I was looking at icebergs from upside down and seeing the 9/10th we don’t see when floating merrily along, which brought me to the unconscious, and now I know you’re congratulating me on pausing for a day on posting.

Also, I wanted to share Rilke’s wonderful quote on rising up rooted like trees, but I couldn’t seem to integrate it with boats, until I remembered living along the Mississippi River, and when it flooded, boats and trees co-existed, so here it is.  

“If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence, we could rise up rooted, like trees.”

Then I learned that when my iPhone updated, it added icons, and somehow I must have clicked the unicorn, so now I have an array of unicorns tossing kisses and such.  I was reminded of a card I love. Someone told me I was delusional. I almost fell off my unicorn.

Anyway, I’m working with inhibiting habitual responses ala F.M. Alexander and my teacher John Baron.  It’s a practice, and yesterday offered opportunity to utilize my practice so I’m grateful for that.

Now, I receive this poem, these words of Aldous Huxley, from his book, Island.


It’s dark because you are trying too hard. 

Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. 

Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. 

Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. 

I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig. 

Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me. 

When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic. 

No rhetoric, no tremolos, 

no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell. 

And of course, no theology, no metaphysics. 

Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light. 

So throw away your baggage and go forward. 

There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, 

trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. 

That’s why you must walk so lightly. 

Lightly my darling, 

on tiptoes and no luggage, 

not even a sponge bag, 

completely unencumbered.

“Not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered”, which leads me to consider the sponge, one of the evolutionary oldest animals on our planet today because their simple structure allows them to adapt and evolve.  They have survived at least 635 million years.

Though their environments may be endangered, they currently are not. There are sponge farms so it’s environmentally feasible to use a sea sponge for beauty care.  Properly harvested, they regenerate. Also, medical research reveals they contain natural chemicals which may kill cancer cells.

The question then comes to pain.  These are living creatures but because they lack a nervous system we determine they don’t feel pain.  I wonder about that. Does a rock feel pain when it rumbles down a hill and breaks apart? What is pain?

And with that thought, a pulse, and my heart opens up and squirts light like an anemone squirts water when touched.

Conversing with Imagination

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