Archive for February, 2014

And Miles To Go Before I sleep

Tuesday, February 25th, 2014

meOkay I’m sleep-deprived, by no fault but my own, and I will just soldier on until I reach a place where I can fall asleep. After going so emo last night I wrote a poem and of course the solution was my previous post — the healing power of music. EPIC music ought perhaps to be called Heroic music because it seems to speak to the potential hero in all of us. Its the kind of music online games use in their videos and commercials; it is the kind of music distribution companies use for film trailers and movie commercials on TV.

It is music that sings a secular anthem to the potential nobility of spirit of all sentient beings. Music that sings of the sorrows and sadness of life and all the pain and misery that is courageously faced down by us mortals every day and yet we DO go on. As I will go on. It matters not that these slings and arrows we face are often from our own imaginations and insecurities. It makes no difference ultimately whether they arise from early trauma engrams or unresolved parental issues or consciously remembered pain that has not been fully processed and relegated to the scrap heap of mined data in our memories. Wherever pain comes from, it is real but need not define who we are or who we must become.

In other words, I am healing my self-inflicted wounds. And the music IS a great help. It reminds me of the person I want to be, the nobility and generosity of spirit that the worlds needs. And that I need.


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And Emptiness is All That I Have Left

Tuesday, February 25th, 2014

meI am usually an upbeat guy, which is surprisingly considering my current circumstances. But I am sensitive, and I can quickly flip into EMO mode and feel endless despair. The surprising thing is I am never suicidal despite how bad it gets sometimes being me.

I wrote this poem after midnight. Haven’t slept since yesterday morning now so it is maudlin, of course. But still worth the effort.

And Emptiness Is All That I Have Left

I still don’t know how it went all so wrong
the day was drawing to a close
and we were chatting happily, so much
enjoying our companionship. But then
the darkness came to mock our happiness
from whence it came, I do not even know
but suddenly the silences were more
as you were pondering to set the boundaries
and then, not knowing how, I was the bad guy
and even to be punished for my needs
and I could not believe you’d shut me out
and just hang up on me, no second chance
and emptiness was all that I had left

What kind of fool would make his life such pain?
why do I even try? And now despair
is all I have for company. I curse
the impulse to reach out, and then be slapped
to share a joy unwanted. Solitude
is not as painful as this sorry state;
my head is pounding and my stomach hurts
with no chance for forgiveness, I am damned
to long for someone who has shut me out
and emptiness is all that I have left

It seems my thoughts are not thoughts to be shared
so clumsily I walk this field of mines
and my emotions cannot pass my lips
for they’d embarrass you, make you feel trapped
so I am trapped, forbidden then to share
the growing feelings you’d not rather hear
and as I stew in silence, trapped, alone
and serve my endless sentence in the dark
futility sinks in the claws of pain
and emptiness is all that I have left

— MRK 12:44 AM, 2/25/2014 Crystal River, FL

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EPIC Music: awe therapy

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

meThere are dark times in every life.

Times when the treadmill tunnel just seems to be getting longer. Time when you feel like another cog in the machine, wearing out in the grind.

For such times you need something to make sense out of the chaos. And one way order arises from chaos is music: the joyful noise sentience makes to thank the Multiverse for awareness.

My favorite for emotive uplift is Epic music. The visual equivalent of looking at an image of a galaxy. You cannot perceive the pattern without feeling something deep within you cry out to embrace that grandeur and to be part of something great and beautiful.

Words get in the way. The best Epic music has no words in a recognizable language. The rhythm and chord progression is a calculus of its own and we all know its unseen secrets, we all know the flavor of exhultation and exaltation that comes from stirring music. Certain musical patterns resonant with our limbic system for various reasons, evoking pleasure on a level fusing the left hemisphere’s craving for detail and the right hemisphere’s passion for harmonic synergy. Not just ordered sound. Rightly and happily ordered sound. Join its chorus!

With certain music, there need be no explanation. It lifts you up emotionally like a wave and carries you forward in singing along with it, with your soul. With certain music you remember the sadness and the triumph both, and marvel at the miracle of existence. When you feel down, try this music. Jump-start your own joyful noise.


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Grokking and being Grokked

Monday, February 17th, 2014

meIn Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, the alien word grok means to understand something so thoroughly that it becomes part of you. All lifeforms grok their environments via messages encoded onto energy. Some energies are visual, some auditory, some molecular and so on. The never ending local incarnation of the Computation assembles a universe from the data available.

I am meeting someone somewhere else on the Internet. How bizarre, that you should need to ask where you are as well as who you are. The point is that initially, like a blind person, all we know about this person is the data we exchange with them. At first it is the attitude and the sophistication that we grok. If we hear someone pleasant and interesting enough, we can contact them for private discussions.

Now it is up to luck. There is a lot a human can do for another through communication, but the other has to allow grokking to happen. Once I invite discussions I run the risk of rejection.  Once a private discussion begins the question becomes where to take it and where to go with it.


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Mixed Signals

Monday, February 17th, 2014

Figure 1There seems to be no avoiding that a daily bombard is bound to contain mixed signals.

Indeed, since the Input is from a vast admixture of Sources, one would expect variety in the quantity and quality of its contents. One is seldom disappointed in such an expectation.

Some of these sources are merely noise, patternless emanations from disparate randomness. The noise, however, is only an inconvenience — mere flavoring — that must be sifted out of the data without harshing the statistics.

Sometimes multiple signals received say different things. A source may recede, apparently withdrawing from consideration, only to return before despair sets in. When this occurs I am mystified but grateful.

Sometimes we can control the availability of data. Sometimes it is important to do so. Data’s not gonna control itself. And reliable patterns are always comforting, in that they are self-consistent.

The Computation proceeds.


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Saturday, February 15th, 2014

meHold the presses!

Something just happened to me that was unexpected. I recently met a person who understands me. That person is taken, but it is good to know her.

But today I received another gift from the Universe. And this one is not taken.

I am swooning, literally swooning over her. I will not name names or give particulars, save to say that I think she likes me.

Sorry, but it is time for a poem.  It is clawing its way out of my chest and the best thing in such circumstances is to let the rascal out before it does any more damage.  Ahem!  *clears throat*

And Then She Blew My Mind

I wandered, as I have, and often do
in vast electric gardens of the Web
to see what fragrant blossoms I could find
inside web-spinning circuits. Bits and bytes
flew though the optic cables, and the hum
of motherboards and cooling fans aligned
as I typed greetings to a lonely soul
who answered back — and then she blew my mind

Such sweet succor! Such softness undeserved
assaulted me with undreamt happenstance
such happy chance! And so began the dance
as circling singers met, and joined to grind
their essence to each other; how I groaned
to worry that I soon would end this dream
and sad awaken — then she blew my mind

Alert, astounded, as my spirit soared
I swooned to hear such kindred thought
no dark coercion necessary here
no pain, no worries, and no fear
a blessed merging for which I have pined
in solitude, and from no planning found
her sweetness, oh! And then she blew my mind.

— MRK 2/15/2014 Crystal River, FL

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