An excerpt from "Shadowland", a short story of mine. A place and time where words / symbols are used as secret weapons of coercion.

What does the mind want kept secret? Perched on the bedside I suck in a new batch of nicotine. It’s 3:47 am. How contaminated is my mind? Have nanobots invaded and await a new day’s instructions from tagged language symbols? Am I aware, can my attitude fend off artificial outside coercive instructions? Which layer of reality do I inhabit? How far off be the surface, that area where language filtering gills are not necessary, a place in which Shadow Land is not? An existence without tool text, symbol, or spoken word. A place of rising mist, calm waters, and silent figures circled round a warm mesmerizing light, a light casting no shadow. A keystroke or child’s lullaby appears fragile in the face of the sword. Not so within Shadow Land. Like whirling gyroscopes of consciousness five and a half billion internal dialog balance humanity on a spinning planet in circular orbit within galactic rotation, an unceasing collective dialog capable of adding or subtracting words of weight consciously and unconsciously. Languages and dialects disappear in the tens each year, replaced with verbal homogeneity inspired through technologies or social integration. Isolated creative ideas must grab hold and assimilate themselves amongst the collective world thought process gyroscope. Centralized homogeneous language dilutes creativeness. Later that day I park my car next to the local city park. And watch. Cars and trucks zoom to and fro between signs and stores and trees…all beneath blue haze. Something snaps in my mind. The buildings and water tower become coral beds. The trees are now sea grass and kelp. The sky is rapturous blue ocean above. Compact cars are small quick striped fish darting about. Larger sedans and pick-up trucks become small size predators searching the reef for prey. Eighteen wheelers racing by on the hi-way are tuna with a mission to somewhere else. And then something new appears. A shark disguised as a sheriff’s patrol car comes cruising into the area, slow and purposeful. Between the coral pillars it glides…long, ghostly, menacing. Others among the reef keep watchful eye. The shark disappears for several minutes, then reappears as it stalks for unwary prey. Another appears. And the two quietly prowl the bottom, their hollow eyes hiding purposeful intentions. Then they’re gone as quietly as they arrived. The fish begin to relax and dart about once more as the reef lives on as it has for many, many years in sublime solitude beneath blue waves, a sort of muffled endless dream somewhere in Shadow Land. I sip a lemonade and smoke. The small town bothers me. Many buildings vacant and in disrepair. I know very few inhabitants. Desolation. Do they feel it? Something once alive yet breathes and struggles to regain its balance. A zombie. Yes, that’s it. Limbs move. Discolored rank skin. A hint of something once was, like scents of day-old barbecue pit, bits of charred tin foil, a few flies and ants. With blood stained lips and hands it stumbles. It remembers something as its hungry belly gurgles and belches. It remembers eating. But what? The zombie falls to the pavement. It looks. Only one leg. Now it remembers. Familiar words ricochet from lobe to lobe inside its skull. Words it holds true---pop machine, self service, television, consolidation, strip mall, freeway, amusement park, Wal-Mart, cell phone, apps, televangelist, eat pussy. All the good pussy left along with small town life. So why not feed on itself. The zombie is but a shell of once was, all those soothing enigmatic words reverberate within empty echo chamber. Benign words. Or so it thinks. Words with promise and expectation. Words as gifts…from Shadow Land. Zombie Town wonders where all the good pussy went. It wonders if the fat Mexican with big tits and tight shorts will be enough. It wonders what aisle will host the next red-light special. It wonders if its sons and daughters will text home tonight from far away places. It doesn’t wonder about much else. Not even catchy words like “rhetoric”. Time for another leg.

Here, where I am surrounded by an enormous landscape, which the winds move across as they come from the seas, here I feel that there is no one anywhere who can answer for you those questions and feelings which, in their depths, have a life of their own; for even the most articulate people are unable to help, since what words point to is so very delicate, is almost unsayable. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, some day in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

Rainer Maria Wilke, "Letters to a Young Poet"

Abiogenesis - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

en.wikipedia.org

In natural science, abiogenesis (pronounced /ˌeɪbaɪ.ɵˈdʒɛnɨsɪs/ ay-by-oh-jen-ə-siss) or biopoesis is the study of how biological life arises from inorganic matter through natural processes, and the method by which life on Earth arose. Most amino acids, often called "the building blocks of life", can...

"How did the Stock Mkt arise from all this?", was the question posed on Facebook.

Right. Mutations are experiments in viability. The Stock Mkt is one. Possibly it will fail in its current parasitic form, mutating into something less degenerative. The Earth and humans would be better for it.

In fact, there are now hundreds of millions of Stock Mkt offspring around the globe. They are called investors.

In the old days it was a "fight or flight" strategy of survival. Lately another option has arisen...join that which threatens to destroy. Thus Evil arises, feeding upon itself.

Fewer and fewer humans have the courage to "fight". And even fewer the courage to "flight". It is an endangered virtue.

Courage evolves into expediency. A Stock Mkt arises. Humanity stagnates in self-absorbtion. Pathogens seize the moment.

Wolves in sheepskin. Wickedness wears a smile. "Come in", said the spider to the fly.

And to dust we return.

ABSENCE OF LIGHT

simulated black hole

Astronomers and physicists have witnessed a star being eaten by a blackhole. And blackholes are collapsed stars. Blackholes come in all sizes, ranging from that of an atom to very large. Apparently they are not galactic vacuum cleaners as I thought. Anything that waunders close enough will get pulled in, never to be seen again. A giant blackhole resides at the center of our galaxy, and many others. They are deemed to have formed long ago, not long after the universe began forming.

Who cares, right? We should keep our minds fixed on Earth. We should paw and schmaw over human endeavors. We should become obsessed with conflict resolution, like the Jewish/Palestinian issue, one of the most hopeless narcisistic human endeavors of our time. We should weep for their suffering, we should send our blood and money, we should waste our lives as they waste theirs. Two incompassionate self-centered bullies in need of an audience. Centuries ago conflicts as such destroyed the greatest library of knowledge in the world. Shame on these people! They, and others alike, should be banished from the human race. They are a blackhole consuming human progress and possibilty. A perfect example of religion at its worst.

May a greater star than they shine the light of truth on all their selfish inconsideration towards mankind. If truth changes not their death wish then may they be lifted to another world where they forever are able to torment one another free of onlookers and innocent victims. With these conflict enablers gone the human race may return to its imagination and exploration of itself and beyond.

OXIDATION:

> The combination of a substance with oxygen.
> A reaction in which the atoms in an element lose electrons and the valence of the element is correspondingly increased.

This question continues to resurface as of late......is life on Earth a chemical process related to other chemical processes like oxidation?

Think of it a minute. A piece of metal will slowly change form when exposed to oxygen.
The Earth is being transformed by a process called life. Exposed elements changing form.
Are cars and skyscrapers and freeways and cyanobacteria and DNA and human bodies & minds.....are all these an "oxidation" of Earth? Is consciousness really needed in this process?

Not an especially romantic view that might cozy up beside the many other idealized theories. Take away the inventions of humans...like virtue, purpose, and death....and the idea appears plausible. Especially at the micro or macro level. After all, the magical formula of life...DNA...is merely bonded elements transformed by conditions abiogenesis . No small feat, but yet in the realm of chemistry.

Why there is only one template for life(DNA) is another question in my mind.
While reading some material I learned for the first time that some scientists believe other templates of "life" may have had genesis, but then were exterminated by competing chemical processes which led to all life as we know it. Even with all Earth's diversity it is yet, it seems, a very exclusive club.

Abiogenesis.....is this what the Buddha sees....this simplicity? And all that ghastly suffering surrounding Buddha....is that just "oxidation" as well?

Imagine great forests and cities and civilizations as a sort of residue build-up as atmosphere and energy begin dissolving and transforming Earth, like the rust on my car fender.

Humans take themselves waaaaay too seriously.

Excerpt from 'Akavika' by Stardust

"We approach the roots of human existence.
The flames grow higher, lighting the moon above. The bongos reawaken universal codes. A frenzied erotic trance state. All around the dark wood watches in wonder. What creatures be they that defy reason and make love to the jungle? What be their fate those who wrestle demons and gods? And fear….it creeps the fringes, its ugly eye peering from the shadows upon the puppets and flame. It will have no meal tonight. Death is but a dream of some other world. For if one truly lives, one never really dies. Moments become The Eternal. And the hand of magic rises and falls without purpose or promise.
The hypnotic drum beats end. We collapse in a heavy sweat. There is nothing left inside. The purge is complete. Above, the stars are no closer. The world no more sane. But the personal evils which paralyze our lives are disintegrating into millions of particles and drifting away on a cosmic current. Akavika and I are safe, our lives more malleable, our dreams intact. Time begins once more, and will continue till we again dance with the fire .....


.....Stranded on a desert island with an empty bottle, a piece of paper, and a pencil. What would you do…..a message?…..what would it say? Or would you save the items for more clever plans?
And this.
Let’s say one day you walk the beach of this island and discover a bottle washed ashore. Carefully you extract torn shreds of paper from within, saving the bottle. The message is there…in puzzle form. You must piece together the hundreds of shreds. So you begin. Very time consuming. Weeks lead to months, years. And you wonder if the message will ever come together making sense. Meanwhile, the island has become your home. Only curiosity of other lands.
The island is Earth. The message is Life. But who or what made the bottle?"
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My intention was a very short story. "Akavika" evolved into a much longer project, involving a character in which I became emotionally involved.

UNDERCURRENTS

Date: 7-14-06
Time: 1:36 a.m.
Place: Blacktop County Rd. 9
.....A loud rumbling noise wakes me. I hurry outside into the darkness. There is a strong smell of hot asphalt & tar in the cool night air. Cautiously I walk down the gravel driveway towards the blacktop road. There, standing with a pair of dogs is this woman (photo). She asks if I have lost my dogs, saying she found them nearby. I tell the woman the dogs are not mine.
It is difficult to breath. The tar road is hissing and popping, acrid vapors steaming from the melting tar. The air is hot on my face. The road appears to slither in pain.
This strange woman suggests I take a photo of the dogs in order to show neighbors who may have lost them. I agree, retrieving my camera from the house. Darkness makes it difficult, but manage to get a shot. The heat and smell is overpowering, and I must back away, up the driveway.
She thanks me, turns and begins walking barefoot down the sizzling twisted road. It was then I asked her where she lives, in the case the dogs' owner is found. No answer from the darkness.
Then she appears once again, slowly walking from the darkness to within several feet from where I stand on the gravel. Almost in a whisper, barely audible above the hissing hot tar below, she says, " I live in you", and she melts into the darkness once more.
I sleep very little that night.

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