journey typhoid Nothing shortens a journey so pleasantly as an account of misfortunes at which the hearer is permitted to laugh. 000205 ... camille I'm on one. 000206 ... camille http://www.zakros.com/chronic-art/sircisulna_56k.ram 000321 ... calliope i think i'm on a journey i like to stop and lie in the clover i hope i'm in the mountains damn her she stole my life 000322 ... camille again 000323 ... camille http://www.zakros.com/chronic-art/sircisulna_56k.ram and again 000323 ... camille i found this piece out there caught in the net,that i found interesting enough to share. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ According to the ancients I began my story at birth. I was the morning star that showed up at dinner time. My first billing clerk was my doctor's signature on my birth certificate. Now, as then, I was on the hero's great adventure cycle. I departed my parents home for vietnam in 1968 and returned in 1969. My adventure was into the heart of darkness. My ancient ancestors would see me as an aztec comet proclaiming the arrival of Herando cortez but my later Venice,Ca beach apartment would record me nearer to smog filled L.A. 1970's counter culture post beatnick beginning of new age melrose place. author unknown -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 000331 ... camille Overwhelmed and fascinated with the color visuals in my world where flowers so vibrant with color squished between your fingers like paint that your senses lifted you feet pulling trying to catch up with the vision you begin to fly ahead of me You were trying to take it all in, much too quickly I tried to reach you, Tried to hold you back, just a little yet you ran ahead of me "The color!!", I yelled laughing "The color!" Wait... "The color!" "It’s Too Much...Wait..!" Hahahaha This takes a while to load but it's worth it.. :o) http://www.goat.com/Movies/slope.mpg 000416 ... somebody JOURNEY TO THE END OF SELF by Charles R. Solomon When I came to Jesus For the cleansing of my sin, (John 3:3) My heart was set at peace As the Saviour came within. (2 Cor. 5:17) Looking to His promise Of a life of victory, (2 Cor.2:14) My faith was sadly taxed, As I struggled to be free. (Rom. 7:24,25) The burdens that I bore Were heavier day by day; It seemed God didn't care (Ps. 142:4) As I labored in the way. I searched for other means For relief from trials sore; No comfort could I find And I yielded to Him more. (Rom. 12:1) My Lord had heard my cry (Ps. 142) And began to guide my way; (Ps. 37:5) Tho' comfort was not giv'n He refused to let me stray. My strength was well nigh gone, And continued to decrease; Until there was no more And He gave to me His peace. (John 14:27) My heart was filled with peace That passeth understanding; (Phil. 4:6,7) I knelt in heartfelt awe My soul was not demanding. Tho' pain had been my lot, (Phil. 1:29,30) In His suff'ring I was blest; (Phil. 3:10) Crucified with Christ, (Gal. 2:20) I have found in Him my rest. (Matt. 11:28,29) 000428 ... stephen It says I blathed here. I didn't. No, wait. I have. The indicator is psychic. 000428 ... Seth I wonder where this journey ends? Six feet under? That thought scares me. That, at the end of it all, I become nothing more than a fading memory. Wow. The only hope I have is that my last thought won't be "What if...". I wonder where this journey began? In my mother's womb? That's another scary thought. The fact that a woman as evil as she be allowed to have kids. I sometimes wonder why I was put in the middle. Between my parents, between my brother and sister, between my dad and my step-mom, between my mom and my step-dad. Confusion. Depression. Anger. Hatred. People sometimes ask me how I know what love is, when I didn't grow up knowing it. I don't know. I do know what love is, though. The opposite of hate. Perhaps I'll find someone to truly love. Until then, I'll love everyone equally. Or hate them all equally. I'm not sure which. The journey continues. 000829 ... camille http://www.snarg.net/ 000919 ... camille http://www.zakros.com/chronic-art/sircisulna_56k.ram 001112 ... camille http://www.entropy8zuper.org/godlove/whispers/index.html 010507 ... tim palmer A distant journey, a vacant thought. Introduction: The standing still of time is on a pendulum of vice against virtue. A man, a creature of all innocent things, stands between the two fixed points that swing freely back and forth dictating its value. A creature, of which we call human, searches inevitably for the nonexistent realm of physical energy that dictates the balance between ones vice and virtue. Throughout this predestined life of constant convictions the creature, or human, lives in a state of purgatory. He is searching for an answer, yet his search always seems to be incomplete; and for reason that this man or this human cannot explain, he sleeps. Through a motionless, innate and sluggish journey our creature- a perfect mold of HE Himself (HE being defined in most Western religions as God- the all powerful and infallible being of creation. And no human form can absorb such an eminent being of energy- so as the story goes HE creates man in His own image) learns and entire databank of tactics and skills to carry him through his internal matriculation. As in study hall the student, or human, begins to drift asleep. Unable to concentrate, loosing all his ability to comprehend, his body is shutting down to a stagnant level. This is a level where he can obtain a strategic point of relaxation. Does he do this in his mind or in his body? (A question which can be only answered by his sleep.) Dreaming –Vs- waking/life. Once this creature, or student begins to awaken from his forsaken slumber his purgatory, or his vessel of life, is still in a Pg. 2 Sense dim. He is forced to carry on to his next scholastic challenge or his next confrontation. He is still vibrant with disillusion, his mind is chattered with yesterday’s filtration’s and tomorrows ambitions. He cannot come immediately to his senses. In a sense, he is still in his utmost stage of imagination. The student beckons for reason, begs for answers and still he finds that he is unbalanced and boggled for any restitution. A man without his senses would be as distant from the world as possible. These are the types that you will find being themselves. They have a way about them that encapsulates them into every category of life. They are trying in all actuality and every physical aspect to be a chameleon. Their concentrarion lies upon what is corrupt and incomplete. A student with a true corruption is bold in the sense that he sees in himself a man without any flaws or any type of recognition of a higher energy as powerful as he or more powerful than he is. Better yet, he is too blinded by his own superior enigmas, that he is bound by a consituttion of falsehoods that lead him to a path of misdirection. Understanding can only be met through confrontation, but if your concentration can not be directed properly, of what value do you then hold? If man would realize that he is only the creature that we call human and begin to concentrate on any given solution at hand, he could put away all the doubts and all the questions. With all of this, he would know in both his heart and his mind that he is true. ~ To all of those who have a question… ~ I. There lies a world, desolate and unashamed of it’s evil, where a creature is wondering aimlessly to search for every shrouded and ambiguous virtue obtainable in order to lead him to a life of pure spirituality. Man, our most frequent specimen of study has proven over time to fall flat on his face repeatedly. Does he fall without any ill intentions or does he fall with any fault of his own? It is believed that all men, through all their glamour and all their self-indulgent tendencies, fail! I believe that we humans are at fault for our constant failure. When one is trying to place blame, there are particular stipulations or underlying contengencies that weigh the result of any ruling or verdict. (Being tuned into the theory of Gestalt psychology, I do also believe that the result of a whole is more important than the parts of the whole.) To justify every course of action humans tend to place artificial blame. Most of the blame is redirected onto an object- thus this object can either be a physical or a metaphysical matter- but once the object has been chosen, our student then places upon it the objects value and it’s intentions. The result becomes a negation of any self-incrimination. At this point our student, or man himeself, has already used a tactic called denial to vanguard against any “peanut-gallery” jeering or outside banter, which may intrude into his devious plan. (His plan, if not yet identified, is to find any means justifiable to excuse or reason with his failure). Over the years, man tends to callus towards any uncomfortable chaffing in regards to his insolvency, but his ill-defined negligence has no scapegoat to hold. So naturally, our student begins to weaken. His efforts to obtain his spirituality are discarded like useless sheets of paper to doodle and mark upon freely. He sees in himself a full canvas. He sees a page worn and torn with all of yesteryears lessons, trials and tribulations. In addition, like a book, he finds that his story can be read on one page and yet another. Of what title should his annotated biography take? How must he doctrine it’s contents and supersede and speculations of forgery? A title mist be chosen (how else can you judge his book by it’s cover?)! More over, by any means necessary, he will place this title upon his book- his title may include all that encapsulates the pages in his mind, or it may be given an appropriate misnomer to influence the direction one will take upon reading the title page. Regardless, out student is impressed by the title he had placed on his book. As our student begins to write, a sudden discomfort comes racing through his veins. He questions his credibility, he questions his knowledge and he questions his intentions, but furthermore he continues to sketch upon his blank canvas creating a story that he may file as the excuse. If you look closely, out student has now used a classical conditioned response. He demonstrates that after being rewarded repeatedly with petty substitutes of natural desire, our student has learned that if he gives a response (most rewardingly the correct response) he will undoubtedly be rewarded. Without he having taken any responsibility for his failure, he has somehow found an impenetrable, blame free and rewarding solution. What this human has not learned is that his solution is fallible, and Mother Nature can be credited for this. As the seasons change, so does the weather. To go even further abstract, image the season being a significant resemblance of the cycle of life. There are four major categories in that cycle: (1) childhood (2) Young Adulthood (3) Adulthood and (4) Retirement. Every season flows and follows into each other in a continual cycle. You can find snow among the fields during the early spring months, or rainfall to cool the sweltering heat blazing off the summers freshly blacktopped playgrounds. As each season moves in closer to one another, as they begin to blend- traces of each season slowly begin to fade away until the next predominant, aged cycle begins to repeat. The only differences between the two-mother nature and man, is undeniably the two distinct timelines in which each cycle follows. Being that mans cycle is spread through in a portion of years, and natures cycle is spread out in only one year increments, the comparison of the two must be view in retrospect to the irrelevancy of time itself. For the moment forget about the aspect of time; imagine that the two segregated timelines run in unison with or parallel to one another. In this set condition, Mother Nature run its course over the same timeline, in unison with, the cycle of life for human existence. Scholars have devoted countless hours and given endless efforts to obtain the ability to predict the weather. There seems to be an unexplainable fixation in society that is focused upon the simplistic value of the temperature and the overall outcome of the weather. There has been a technological war in order to have the upper hand in the prediction for the most severe natural disasters; yet, a prediction of sorts requires no logical rhyme or reason. At any given moment, Mother Nature can spawn on the innocent a natural weather phenomenon; she could alter her course of physical actions, growths, and bearings to be a complete alter ego of the original formation. It is my belief that man follows this same path. He can be predicted, only to a degree of allowance and his predictions are almost as valuable as gold nuggets. To obtain the ability to predict mans fickle behavior and tendencies will be worthy of a plaque or a beneficial reward. A mark in mankind that is waiting to be stumbled upon and once the human race can begin to predict the unpredictable, he can truly begin to understand that which has essentially rendered him stagnant. He will begin to open within himself a feeling of spiritual wholeness. Aside from the fight between man and nature itself, there is another battle being strategically fought elsewhere. In all actuality there are (4) four other battles festering about. The first battle, as mentioned before, is childhood. This is the first cycle. Mother Nature and man are running on the same timeline remember, and brought to this world is a child? A child is the closest species to a unified being. A child is fresh and innocent; yet, ironically, it ahs exposure to many environmental factors that would innately be categorized as sin. In relation, spring is comparatively similar. For instance, if you were to imagine that winter, in an ordinary geographical seasonal transition, came directly before the spring season, then it would hold true that season prior blended or faded slightly into the next. In this case, the season or cycle being spring or childhood shows us an interestingly expressed aspect of time. The Midwestern portion of North America has designated that spring be the season that we progressively move forward the idle hand of time. In a sense, this tampering of time is a “spring forward” or a progression from a deadened and lifeless existence. The leaves on the trees begin to bud, as the hair on a child begins to grow. The grass grows green and vibrant again, as the skin becomes durable and elastic. I reflect often on the ideal that child bearing is one of the greatest things in all the universe, yet it still holds a somber, unspoken darkness to it, essentially leading to a negative connotation. I also often ponder the ideal of humanity treating itself or it’s nature with similar regard. How does the cycle of nature, in all of it immaculate pawns, bear such an ugly bitterness? There is often a constant nagging on how uncomfortable a particular degree must seem, or how much our student desires the next season only because he is bored. Slowly you can begin to see how a battle has been declared. Not only is there a conflict between man and nature, but with man and man and nature against nature. If there can be a line drawn to segregate the two, where would you draw the line? I believe that our student would draw it under his graciously designated title. He will again rely on his falsehoods- he will revert to the disregarded beliefs that led him to his original question of placement. He will, in his mind, believe that he has made his confrontation, he will believe that he understands. He will want to predict the outcome; thus, his premature speculation will indefinitely bring him back to his question- where to draw the line? An excuse is seemingly the only logical elucidation to the question of boredom. He will not admit that his boredom is by any fault of his own. Therefore, man will place upon the failure an expectation. Usually this expectation is another beneficial reward. Thus! He is lacking the ability to go into any situation with a willingness to learn. As nature goes about, after the thunder calms down and the predictions are either incorrect or accurate, no excuses are made. Then man learns to accept that which he does not understand. Unfortunately raising another question-, does his title carry this same tantalizing misunderstanding and misdirection? Spring is a time of birth and often rebirth. After a frozen and lifeless period, the warm sun climbs anxiously over the sky regenerating and recreating all of natures life and beauty. This sounds to me very similar to the cycle of childbirth. The crowning of a cranium innocently forced through a canal of realization into a world in which he will learn to live and bloom into nothing more than a blowing tree on a vast field of spacious valleys. Spring, a time to move forward, a new dawn, a fresh start, a new canvas to draw upon. A crucial time in the growing process, for whatever you plant into the soil will determine even the simplest details of that life’s existence. As the proverb goes-, “ you reap what you sow.” The next battle is more focused upon the actual events that occur in the cycle. This cycle is where you will begin to see one’s manhood or the cycle where your student will begin the most crucial point of question. Young adulthood, or the hot dog days of summer, is crucial to the most influential part of our cycles progression. Here you will find more emotional matters, matters that are more personal and yet you will find more interpersonal stagnant levels. These levels can sometimes be argued over aimlessly for hours because this era in mans cycle is when he will begin to severely question the incoherent nonsense that surrounds his entire world. There will be choices, there will be matters of content that strike a particular nerve or a hidden memory. The learning process is most likely at its highest degree of retention. Thus, when he gathers his thoughts, something runs through his veins. A fear maybe, but more importantly why is that fear gathering? What has sparked the initiative for such a chilling reaction? Quite possibly the blame for such anarchy will and can be devoted to one’s childhood. Moreover, If we still hold true our variable about the time between the cycles of life and the cycle of nature running its course in parallel with each other; then in both cases there was a fluent transition from one cycle to the next. For what you do in one cycle can slowly begin to alter the following seasons to come. In this particular case, there were altercations made from prior seasons, or an earlier cycle that molds the student into the scholar or stoner he may be. A young adult has and interesting story at this point in life. He has taken that which has been planted into his mind and into his heart and used it to, what he thought was, an advantage. He has worked diligently to obtain understanding. He has come to understand the cause and effect restrictions that have been created around him in his environment. Here, man is most likely diagnosed as going through puberty. The mind and the body have reached a degree of maturing where the two separate facets have collected and stored many useful tactics to provide the correct answers for any given problem or superior enigmas which he may encounter. The result is nothing shy of an illustrious, physical reward to pacify any further altercations or any further questioning. This puberty stage in young adulthood could have the most intricate and sensitive to the exposed emotions of a child. You can still draw a line among the blank canvas of that child or he may have already filled the creative space with something more predominant. His heart may have already been torn out repeatedly; he may still have illusions of grandeur of a childish world where he never needs to grow up. Puberty now plays as the bow that glides gently or coarsely across the brassy strings of an elegant violin. Depending upon where you apply your stress or fatigue on the harmonic instrument, you will invoke and create a sound; or in the case of our human, you will create a belief or a reaction. This sound, or this reaction, will be judged upon its value, nothing more, or nothing less. A verdict will be passes. Is the sound complete? Is the belief truly profound? On a musical scale, where would I place my sound? How will I be able to sustain such a beautiful note, or better yet! What should I title this sound? Once a title has been placed, it can be recalled repeatedly. You can alter, add to, or even delete whatever portion of that in order to make room for a transformation or a mutation of that title. Therefore, our student begins to see the beginning of what I call the denial period. Every creature in the human race goes through such a transitional phrase. Your parents will and teachers will call it life or lessons of life. They will also inform you that it is okay to fail. “It’s not your fault, “ they’ll say. So even in the early stages, man will find himself removing any self blame in order to provide a correct excuse so that he may be rewardingly acceptable to himself as well as others. In the young adulthood stage, our student is just starting to be exposed to the conditions in life that will mold him to the man he will spawn and strive to be. This cycle bares the hottest weather or the most questions. This is the molding period. If the student, at this point, has not come to terms with himself if he cannot look further than that of himself, then he truly will be in for a rigorous journey. A journey that has no reason or any logical justification for the endeavors he has encountered this far along his complicated existence. As the cycle of nature goes, the later portion of our fiscal year is considered the harvest time. The two most influential and delicate seasons have passed. Now it is time to gather up all the fruit and grain and make use of that which much time and attention has been devoted. In comparison to our alternative timeline, we are now exploring the battle between man against nature. What expectations become of man when the environment seemingly presented has spawned a decadent storm to trample the fields of grain planted earlier in our creatures existence. There is no prediction of sorts that can claim complete acceptance or denial of such a phenomenal occurrence. Again, man has proceeded to deny any self-acceptance of his failure (to produce “crops.”) In this portion of our study man had, in mid-life, failed again in his schematic genre’ of life, he has failed to produce what will essentially be called happiness. He will have devoted most of his life creating, destroying, and recreating. He will have led a virtuous life upon the charges of his local church. He will have bled, cried and even searched for the courage to be himself. 010905 ... futility I made one once. At the edge of the precipice I stood, city below, open space behind. The sun set over my shoulder, and the clouds came alive with colors so intense it hurt to look. In that moment the pieces came together and the contradictions ceased to exist. The road lay out before me as a speckled ribbon, and the future was there ahead though my destination was unknown. 011013 ... camille http://darklingplain.org/egotist/media/dusk.swf 011104 ... god softly you whisper, you're so sincere... 011204 ... ClairE Endless. 011204 ... kelli crane just sit back and enjoy the trip 020113 ... Wanderer I see you at the farthest end of the horizon. A faint whisper in my head and on my lips, you are the memory and voices of all my journeys. Behind the very mountain tops and curve that is the edge, I am forever traveling to you. This is the end of the world, and I gladly take that leap. 030115 ... metanantrg the journey that im are about to forgo will be the greatest challenge for me Ive travled through life unsure what I realy wanted I realized it not to long ago when a true friend came to me in a vision and said it was infront of me This is a journey that im willing to grab with all my mite and never let go of I know this now for it took so long to see life will be the greatist journey for me 030916 ... jen I'm in the car on the journey of life and all I can think is, "Boy I wish we would get a flat tire so we can stay here forever. 040223 ... egger . 040223 ... jimmy nobody said to keep on believing 040223 ... x twisted x "life isnt about living forever...its about making the journey count." 040412 ... camille http://www.zakros.com/chronic-art/sircisulna_56k.ram 040418 ... white_wave are ya feeling? are ya feeling that way too? 040418 ... hsg without looking back. without what could have been. pity no where to be found. i still shiver from the cold, almost always. but deep inside i'm unconcerned. could have froze but im zen by now. horizon inviting. still content grounded or not. thought id never HaveSolidGround but i found myself again undisturbed. rest reset to catch my breath or throw it away if i dare. journey into cute lil nooks. drum_circles through strange times. pray fast be still in motion. riding waves & reading vibes. pattern all fathers a disobedient light'son. a bastardares to step where as sole hasn't been. always one steps away from stillness. 071003 ... . Today I took that single step. 081204 ... LoverOfLight It's inside me now Watching yours from the outside I take little swallows of air and sometimes, like right now A wetness strokes my cheek and my hand opens up to the window Touching *out there* 081204 ... ever dumbening in the end it's always alone. 090504 what's it to you? who go blather from