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12.12.12: A journey of self-discovery for a lopsided soul
Deepest Health’s writer Eric Grey came up with a rather tantalizing suggestion: “practice what we preach,” in other words, can we aspiring health practitioners and healers walk the walk of our medicine?
Chinese Medicine is all about refinement, getting closer and closer to our intimate selves, a spiraling if you will of self-discovery, getting clearer outlines of the nooks and crannies (both physical and emotional) of our dynamic being.
Over the year of 2008, the idea is to watch, cultivate, and record observations about yourself in relation to the 12 Chinese officials and their inherent directional force. For a full description of the details, you can check it out here. You, too, can be part of the experiment.
I triple-dog-dare-ya.
Eric’s idea does sound simple enough, but historically, my nature is whimsical, chaotic as a butterfly dipping into what suits my fancy given any present moment. In general, I have a problem with structure; confinement creates my chaos, feeling edges of definitions and boundaries, makes me become stubborn and unmanageable at times. Hence the fact that I call my cubical “my inspiratory” instead, still feeling the need to crawl around and be creative in cafes about Portland. I know these attributes of mine could prove problematic, friends, but on a realistic note, this may unearth a few hidden gems worth reviewing.
Dogmatic and ritualistic routine I shy away from, and in some instances promote the opposite, finding for myself that the road less traveled has far more hidden treasures for my psyche and spiritual growth. This exercise shall, in the very least, prove interesting to both myself and any readers out there in cyber land. Life: we all go through it perhaps some overlap of my experiences will serve the betterment of humanity, or at least provide some insight into the process of being human.
To keep up with the continuity, you may periodically visit the page entitled, “12-12-12.” Why 12-12-12? I was born on the 12th of December, and the way I shall reward myself for sticking though this self-discovery program for an entire 12 months will occur on December 12, 2008. And to keep those of you hungry for more, in addition to satisfying my innate nature for unpredictability, each months’ insights will occur haphazardly, occurring, but not limited to, at least once per month. Encouragement, feedback, or a simple thumbs-up is appreciated at any given time and in any pattern you deem necessary. Here’s to revelations within.
January: A Journey of self-discovery for a lopsided soul
February: The groundhog forgot to deliver the news
March: Sousa’s talking to me?
April: Pry them jaws of life open and don’t let the door hitch on the way out
May: System’s back online
June: Don’t Play With Your Food. EAT IT!
July: The True Universal Upset: Loss of Imagination
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PART 1: A journey of self-discovery for a lopsided soul
“Brrrr-BING!…Brrrr-BING!….Buurr-rr-RR-rRr-BI-Eee-Br-eeEEEeeeg-!”
This is the sound that my Corona Typewriter makes. To say that’s it rusty from negligence and misuse would be an understatement… my forgotten 1910 Underwood could attest to such inappropriate unrest. This is also the sound that my mind makes when I attempt to force out any creative endeavors, especially upon command. It seems utterly useless when the mechanisms just refuse to work. It’s like poking a dead fish out-of-water and telling it to swim. To elaborate further, the physical challenges that prevent my communication, I present to you a key cast of players:
- A sluggish tongue: a muscular structure that gets too ecstatic and emotional about my thoughts. This meaty member proceeds to flap endlessly and aimlessly, badgering and exposing my poor listeners to topics that may not have any other relevance except to myself.
- My brain, which twiddles like a noisy cockatoo on some occasions and on others, wags happily like an excited hound. Neither of which, despite the joys within, can adequately convey a useful string of words. Estimations of grammatically structured ideas result, leaving misplaced verbs and made-up words in its wake, leading to describe itself as a distant relative to a soft pad of butter.
- And lastly my fingers… the excitement that stems from their tips conveys enough emotive force that it moves my laptop’s cursory movement to wayward directions that seem even more than tangential to my oceanic thoughts.
In brief, these three factors, in combination to lack of time, poor memory, and a clean bar of soap have prevented me from relaying my experience of January’s rendition of 12.12.12. At first glance, my preface appears out of place, a wanton of self-pity, however I would like to reassure my audience (a membership of perhaps a small scattering of individuals) that I am human, as well. I simply knew that this project would prove too constructive and purposeful for my blitzing psyche to understand… but I digress, I accepted the challenge, and this is what I have to show for January 2008.
This was the selfwork delivered from Deepest Health:
January - Gall Bladder, Zi 子 (Rat): Scholarship/Study: This category will contain practices to develop us into true scholars in the Confucian/neo-Confucian tradition. Why this pairing? The seasonal energy is still in winter, a contemplative mood prevails, but the Yang is rising. Similar to this, we can see scholarly pursuits as ACTIVE passivity. One generally sits still, but one’s mind is hard at work.
Unfortunately, this initially proved troublesome because most of my time is spent working for the Helfgott Research Institute, a rather scholarly activity, and my body is still recovering from the completion of NCNM’s Chinese Medicine MSOM degree. My life felt pretty heavy-handed in the scholarship/study department, and to knowingly pursue additional avenues into this line of thought seemed counter intuitive. Sure, I love learning, exploring, detailing the invisible threads of mechanism on the mathematical, intellectual, and brain-bending scales…. But this felt out of balance with what I needed on an emotional, playful, and a delight-in-the-world realm, all of which I’m seeking to round out after a four year absentee hiatus directly due to my scholarly study at NCNM. These parts of my life are as equally important to me. Hence the inherent difficulty. So perhaps I bent the rules for the Year of Sagely Living game an eensy-bit, but I discovered that the universe has a rather perverse way of dealing with types like me….
Along my path of avoidance, in accord with my dogged determination to remain stubborn and to advert any and all self-constructive exercises, I subconsciously abstained from libraries, bookstores, and even reading the daily funnies … “The cartoons were becoming a bit stale,” I told myself. That and my co-worker and friend, Erin C, left for India with the organization BIRD to pursue underserved diabetic populations and blood pressure, (she was in charge of providing the Oregonian every day). My opportunity to read the funnies was actually not a conscious choice, but rather a secondary effect resulting from a lack of Erin C in my life.
Enter coincidence #1: Erin C decided to go to India because of a book she read: “eat pray love” by Elizabeth Gilbert and in part because she has an enormous heart.
Enter coincidence #2: This book had recently entered my life via a childhood friend, who throughout the years has provided me with numerous fabulous reads. This friend has watched me grow, and blossom in the worst and best of times. Despite the large nation that separates us, I am forever grateful for her and her continued persistence with our friendship. Deciding not to act on such childishness, however, I played off the concurrence of events, thinking that synergistically two items combined might equal the force of four, but beyond that number, nothing added up to enough greatness for me to pursue the book any further (starting to notice a pattern?).
To cut right to the chase, now clearly labeled as coincidences #4-6, appearing in respective order: my neighbor, my shoemaker, and some odd character on a Trimet bus recommended the book to me. Fine, I conceded, I shall read the book. And read I did, pushing imaginary timelines aside, creating a chaotic “book-reading” jaunt at least once a day, I provided an outlet for the Year of Sagely Living to shape me.
Elizabeth Gilbert’s processing was exactly what the doctored ordered. In short my life lessons learned in January were:
- Devouring a book is a delight that I seldom allow myself, and this is mostly due to an over-active mind and a “so little time mentality” that I construct.
- Devoting myself to simple daily practices like book thumbing, bath tubbing, and aimless walking keeps me balanced in this stage of the game.
- Overall, I adored the book: “eat pray love” and would recommend it to anyone seeking a change in perspective from the tired routine of self-conformist thinking.
In retrospect, I did achieve the goals outlined in the Year of Sagely Living, as I learned to passively pursue the simple. Enabling myself with more “self time” and allowing my academic pursuits to cool off once and a while. Life and learning is all encompassing, and coincidently can be found in a book.
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PART 2: The groundhog forgot to deliver the news
Alas, even the simplest rule that I provide for myself gets broken. Did I mention that I am difficult to coerce? I did? Then it should be no surprise that my February rendition of Sagely Living comes in on the timely date of March 8th, 2008. I would like to point out the fact that today is dedicated to empowering women, or that’s at least what my calendar told me, and because of my foundation in the whimsical, this seems like an auspicious sign. Thus, I give to you a collection of nonsense flavored with spicy adjectives, sautéed to perfection, exemplary of a lopsided soul dedicated to manifesting unconformity and creativity in her life as well as providing framework for the revolution of healthcare. Here was the homework:
February - Liver, Chou 丑 (Ox): Strategy/Business: This category will contain practices in the realm of business development and strategic planning in the professional world. Why this pairing? The Liver is the general of the body, so has a natural affinity for this kind of activity.
Professional pursuits? Ha! Anyone who knows me, knows I prefer to wear blue collars and blue socks to board meetings, representing the underdog and barefooted, grassrooted pursuits. Ergo, and not surprisingly, the question got revamped and directed towards my desire for more creative freedom, sprinkling a bit of will-nilly into the equation so that the end result meant that I would ultimately feel like I’m getting away with something. This may sound silly to my readership, but I have to trick my psyche into thinking that business of business can be fun, and if it really isn’t, then I find a way to make it so. Ultimately, I can achieve whatever the goal, be it business or be it funny business, yet at the same time my focus steadfastly remains on growing emotionally, intellectually, and physically as a human being. I’ve only got so much time here on planet Earth; I may as well make it worth my while.
The question for me: How can I introduce creative strategy for my professional pursuits: outline and put into play those ideas that get sidelined when the deadlines from work mount up? To make myself take this proposition seriously, I decided to write it down and in a fashion that would keep my attention. So I did just that on a sunny afternoon with a bazillion other things I needed to do. I sat filling my head with emptiness and nothingness, letting my physical body fade away, the rhythm of my breath and heart beat slowing the tempo of my day. A good length of time passed before I was able to achieve this initial step, all the worldly responsibilities kept popping into consciousness, playing lead actor on an empty stage. Knowing all to well that pressure placed upon this step would prove an ineffectual tactic I patiently persisted, letting the strings of my being loosen, allowing the experience of nothingness to happen. Slowly the syrupy blackness stuck, its viscosity vacuumed me inwards towards my southern core. Out of the darkness, my inner child stepped forward, took the microphone timidly into her hands, cleared her throat and quipped her message to me. Yes, I thought delightfully to myself, what a novel idea.
Onto a woven sheet of Howard Linen, I sculpted my ideas clearly, feeling the nib of my pen cut through the delicate undulations of fibers, my thoughts neatly unfolded for plain view. These words appeared in respective order, evenly spaced, to give each its just due, what I was to pursue in order to put into play this year’s sagely exercise:
Publish literary masterpieces
Cultivate through plants
Revolutionize healthcare
Admittedly, I was not expecting three items to formulate themselves from my effervescent ether, but when the tablets are handed down, you don’t ask any more questions, rather it’s best put those thoughts into action. Dwelling on why and why me are not useful for planning, the greatness that resides deep within each of us has the power and potential to accomplish anything, it’s simply a matter of laying the groundwork for making that dream a reality. Time is but a human construct that we allow to limit our imaginations. However, this fell wayside to my predominating train of thought: three items? There must be more gusto and get up and go sticking to my ribs that I was aware of; no wonder my inner light appeared apprehensive, sparking thoughts quickly, then bowing silently into the curtained backdrop. I couldn’t help but think that this was a rather tall order. Would my beloved boss and devoted boyfriend understand that I had a tri-mission? Well, the times I doubted that inner light, I struggled, so I mine as well crusade in a heart-felt direction… right?
Strategic planning is a something I delight doing, especially when the planning involves fun, imagination, and a little splash of non-conformist thinking. Out of the box, I say, put it on display, make the creation something worth talking about, something that’ll change perspective and more importantly empower individuals. Last year about this time, Operation Oprah: Project 61 was planned and quickly implemented so if that was possible, imagine what could manifest if I simply tried my triad.
Examining the threesome closer, a harmonious chord struck within my core because a golden thread neatly sewed the ideas together into a central theme: me. Every idea on the list appealed to me, moreover, developing any one of those items would be a perfect ideal for the narration of my earthly existence. Why not have three items of focus? This combination would allow me to switch it up a bit, keep things interesting, and ultimately remain on track towards achieving my aspirations. Each facet of my triangle could take lead role and use the other two as supporting actors, ultimately resulting in a single promotion of the paradigm. Allow me to explain….
Both writing and playing in the dirt are my ways of experiencing and processing. Sometimes I think when I do them… and sometimes I don’t, either way the endeavors are fruitful. These activities support and cultivate me, delicately shaping me in an organic and natural way. My writing flourishes when I pursue it, likewise, my garden of Eden provides taproots and tapestry to my external world. Both writing and planting are about are about focusing my awareness upon a task, and by dint of sheer persistence, patience, and continued cultivation a visible development can occur. Watching the immaterial and material grow is just the right timeline to give me a perspective on change. Moreover, through these introspective processes and outwards expressions, the terrain of my brain remains fertile, and the vegetative fields of my labor provide symphonic explosions of colorful interludes throughout the cycling of my life. In simple speak: these tasks please me.
Revolutionizing healthcare is a natural offshoot to these two pursuits, if my mind’s at ease and my foundation strong, then I have the time and energy to devote to my chosen direction, promoting optimum health for those that seek it. Moreover, the bully pulpit of the Helfgottblog allows others and myself to voice our concerns and perspectives for our evolving healthcare system and the politics therein. Before where frustration reigned, now resides a persistent plea for humanity amplified through an electronic megaphone, reaching into the minds of others out there in search of truthful and useful health information. If I simply keep at it, then this outlet will continue to foster both my writing and my passion for a benevolent revolution of our ailing healthcare system.
And lastly, to interpret the triad from the remaining angle, how can my gardening skills be put to use with promoting health? Here’s where that creative spark came in: this year, my work with NCNM’s thoughtful group, the Environmental Action Committee, adopted the Spider Plant Campaign. By the propagation of spider plants and its touted ability to purify our indoor air, we are able to promote health into the homes and offices of millions through a useful and interactive way. At least that’s what I’ve convinced myself is possible. I guess only the construct of time will tell, in the meantime, the promotion of cleaner indoor air keeps my hands dirty with Mother Earth’s goodness and poised for whatever the possibilities poised at my finger’s tips may be.
Robert Browning, sums it up nicely with this quote: “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s heaven for?” Browning happened to exit this world, stage left, on the 12th of December, 1889, which just so happens to be my birthday. Another auspicious sign? Yes, my quirky coincidental inner delight concedes. Perhaps there’s still hope for my obstinate nature; this dogged diehard determination just might be the justification as a means to the end.
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PART 3: Sousa’s talking to me?
For the duration of the month, I felt like I had a sousaphone stationed squarely behind my head, bleating out a tempo unknown to me. But I kept marching forward, awkward as it was, knowing that growth was occurring whether I was aware of it or not. So the month came and went, flashing a few Monday-Mondays into the mix, audaciously moving time forward on its second Sunday. My internal biorhythms got scrambled, and I nose-dived off course at times. Yet somehow my makeshift movements followed suit to unknown brute and less predictable forces. Clumsily, I managed to make it through those 31 cumbersome days on my continued path of self-reflection, getting glimpses of my roughness and inflexibility all along the way. The result was that I learned how to relax in a pigeon holed world; to gladly give in to the mechanisms and comfort of routine.
I must admit that March infiltrated my energetic discourse and made a swan song out of me. Not in the traditional sense of swan song, a trumpeting of retirement, but rather the transforming of an ugly duckling into that of a cygnet who is finally preening her feathers, eliminating the grime from years before, and celebrating her self-discovery. Call it personal acceptance on a whole new level. March militarily forced me to reconcile with my rebel tendencies, pushing me past my own boundaries and pointing out that I needed a bit of balance to keep me on my mission.
The lesson: structure can be good. Yep, for those readers out there, sitting mouths agape, it is true: I now enjoy a bit of structure in my life. I’m successfully developing as a protagonist in this “12.12.12”, a 12-step program for a Year of Sagely Living. Allowing myself to accept structure was quite beneficial and led me down a path upon which I would not normally encroach. The roads became clearly marked and the pattern self-evident. In a sea of strange, my steps slowly progressed, one foot, two foot, three foot, blue foot, somehow still in pursuit of the oddity of me.
Here is the direction I have taken in order to crack the code, finally hatching my psyche from its not-so-innocent shell:
March - Lung, Yin 寅 (Tiger)- Activity/Rest: This category will contain practices having to do with appropriate cycles of rest and activity in daily life - for instance, appropriate waking times throughout the seasons. Why this pairing? This earthly branch and the essence of the Lung Zang are about the peaceful tension between opposites, like the time of the year associated with both. Further, being mindful of our need for balance between rest and activity is great preparation for the often overactive spring/summer energy.
I’m a rebel through and through, finding the chaos in the conventional and status quo. You know what I’m talking about. The vulnerable crack, that narrow space of new understanding within a system; it intrigues me. And I’m not alone. 
There are others out there like me, physicists squinting into the cosmos, geneticists deliberating over nature’s blueprints, artists pushing past propriety and adopting new mediums barely bent into existence, as well as the musicians who lace notes together in a fashion that would resurrect Rumi causing him to embroider yet another poem for our eyes to read. This seam is where creation occurs, a rebirthing of ideas and paradigms, which shift and sift the imbalances of our world. This is where I spend most of my time: watching for the oddities, the uniqueness of each system. It’s the movement, the dynamic nature of change that I find fascinating, and would explain why new alternatives are appealing to me and the structure from which it came can appear old hat. Being aware of this is good, but it is not a holistic picture of the universe, nor is it an appropriate fixation for a lopsided soul in pursuit of a balanced and holistic state of existence.
My simple acts of self-discovery have more to do with the uncovering of my personal cracks, peering into the dark areas and learning what it takes to be… well, me. Someone somewhere said that the outer world is a reflection of our inner world… and I’m starting to really believe it now that I’m examining myself with a bird’s eye view. In the past, some of my goals remained unattainable due to my inner imperfection, the inability to keep routine patterns consistent enough in order to add a sound playing board for my explorations. So, to cut to the chase, you could say that I discovered my own weak link in my fledgling flight of personal pursuit, and through introspection I learned a great deal more about balance. And I find this inner unearthing as equally delightful as all the external explorations traveled thus far, especially since I am able to recoup, fueling more energy for my passions. The act of shifting structure into my life added the necessary insight for me to become more sustainable.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I am a bird of a different feather. If I’m alone with my thoughts, chances are I’m whistling some tune or another, concocting yet another crazy scheme to make more individuals aware of their own personal health care. But I don’t ever wish to be perceived as Whistling Dixie, the endeavors outlined in February’s 12.12.12 need tending, my focus must remain steadfast on the tasks at hand.
New ideas continually bubble, surface and pop into my consciousness all the time, and it’s hard to say no to such delightful constructs. Distractions and other weakening ilk keep my target out of reach. Learning how to navigate this life without a road map can be tricky, especially if pursed in a distracted manner. Why not choose a direction and follow through, plan provisions along the way so that I could remain balanced throughout my journey? So, I did just that: I willingly stepped into my black box, felt its walls firmly against my sides and discovered that a routine of self-care could prove comfortable.
What I learned:
Balance presented itself with a pleasant rigidity, adding a solid base note during life’s chaotic orchestrations. In my Pandora’s box I discovered that being sustainably healthy requires me to take my thinking cap off, place it aside, and let my mind relax once and a while. For me balance only appeared after I adopted a structured support system, in the form of social occasions and laughter with friends and family, a new gym membership, as well as consistent acupuncture and massage treatments. Walks in the park are now considered equally as important as a work-related meeting and not substandard. These simple acts bring me pleasure and in turn allow me to remain present and productive at my beloved job.
I am easily distracted. New concepts can quickly capture my attention and sometimes lead me to discover directions different from initially intended; multiple frames of reference and tangents are common to my ways of thinking. Luckily, these qualities offer flexibility and strength when I attempt to communicate my ideas to a larger audience. Continuing to decipher the multitudes of creativeness is good, but staying the course over the long haul in order to reap reward is another skill entirely.
I’m learning that you get what you ask for if you pursue it with passion and a dedicated heart. And as those rewards continue to pile in, I am actively learning to accept and contain its bounty. Enjoying the fruits of my labor is a good thing.
Upon the completion of my third month of the Sagely Living practice I am reminded of the words stated by Arthur Schopenhauer,
“All Truth passes through three stages:
First: it is ridiculed.
Second: it is violently opposed.
Third: it is accepted as being self-evident.”
It should be no surprise that I followed this timeless description to at T. For those of you just tuning in, please refer to January and February for a rather obvious adherence to this pattern. My latest working proof: I am odd and yet I am even… therefore what am I?
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PART 4: Pry Them Jaws of Life Open
and Don’t Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out
Welcome to the fourth piece in a 12-month forum determined to redesign and realign a lop-sided soul, the program is called A Year of Sagely Living. All of April’s days were more than an average mouth full for this protagonist, my dear friends, and not to overwhelm my small gaggle of readership, we shall start with the basics. The word April comes from Latin aperire meaning “to open” and this simple interpretation neatly describes what occurred over the past month. My personal serpentine lessons appeared in a set of extreme, geminate circumstances raging from joy to sadness, familiar to downright unusualness, and to detail an honest description for the month of April includes a rather unpleasant, yet sincere groveling towards the finish line.
The process for April was akin to taking a rickety old can opener to a can of worms. Its mechanisms slow and cumbersome almost geriatric, its metallic construct bending under the weight of worldly pressure, leaving jagged edges to rectify, somehow mend anew. And as my vulnerable and visible gooey insides sluggishly escaped onto an earthen floor, I found myself following suit, burrowing deep into the darkness below. Much to my frustration, every servile attempt I made appeared half-baked, disappointments piled up in my wake. Time ticked by, minutes felt like eons, every day was a Sisyphean Challenge. Around day 28, I began to act slower, more methodic and deliberate, which enabled me to digest even the toughest of tests. Within this simple act of surrender, I was able authentically accept this lowly state of being, and only then was I able to discover a transformative worm-hole, where I curiously sat, detritus at my back, sunshine full-tilt ahead. Illumination had occurred.
By some means, I managed to bandage up the pieces of progress that steadfastly continued despite its painstaking headway into an account of what happened to me. I became the proverbial cicada, aware and accepting of the underbelly of my being, and also able to detail a rough tale of what underlies my earthly uncertainty. The instructions:
April - Large Intestine, Mao 卯 (Rabbit) - Care of the planet/consumption: This category will contain practices that develop us into compassionate and sane consumers, while helping to develop our deep relationship with the natural world. Why this pairing? April is a time when we can see the beauty of nature all around us, so is a great time to contemplate our dependence on it and responsibility towards it. Also, the negative side of LI/Rabbit is a tendency to run rough-shod over the needs and wants of others, these practices will seek to counterbalance this.
To give just an example of a reoccurring theme for my 30 days of “opening” I present to you a description of its second week. I traveled up to Seattle to see the Dalai Lama speak at the Seeds of Compassion Conference and how we, as concerned global citizens, can manifest compassion into the minds of a new generation, and more directly into the soft nervous tissue of our fertile youth. Neuroscientists and educators wrapped their minds around the complexity of the plasticity of the human brain: how it develops, how it records, and most of all, how pliable it remains through all the trials and tribulations of “maturation.” The conference divinely incorporated the inherent and dynamic nature of our brains, from the young to the old, into a plausible reality. Each discussion was incredible, and included ways for our mainstream scientific community to gain a genuine understanding of the bigger picture. To say the least, this was a wonderful act of opening my mind and heart to new possibilities.
However. When I made my trek up north, the timetables of Amtrak proved problematic. Somehow I managed to miss the train a grand total of four times before I began my holy trek to see one of my most revered mentors, the Dalai Lama. In the beginning, I was crushed, unsure of why the journey was so difficult; why, that despite best intentions, I still managed to miss Siddhartha’s proverbial raft; and why, once I got there, my mind was so muddled with what was wrong that clarity was so hard to achieve. As one might imagine, frustration reigned where comfort easily dwelt before, and there were no sweet mangoes littering about my toes. No, dear readers, the comforts of easy living seemed lacking: Seattle represented non-routine, unfamiliar surroundings, strangers, and a transportation system that seemed to work exclusively upon the chaos theory. Obviously to all those around me, I was a foreign satellite haphazardly orbiting the city. The sun was my guide, yet the direction and mechanism by which I should discover each conference event remained clearly undefined. I had thrust myself into the willy-nilly of the unknown. Normally… I delight in such circumstances, but it’s not every day you get to see the Lama, and in my coconutted mind, I was absolutely determined to be “present” for such an auspicious event.
Moreover, back on the home front, Portland took its sweet time moving into spring, using a southern term I’d say it lollygagged to the point of annoyance. The cold continued and the rain remained unchanged from our winter months, and when the season finally began to oscillate into being, it preferred to wildly fluctuate. The joys of springtime did not whole-heartedly greet; its normal cyclic nature of blooming patterns contained a stochastic quality, pops of sunshine flitted and flirted, forecasts became empty promises, and hail storms pelted the unprepared during nature’s mutable weather patterning. Never before had I realized how reliant I was upon the steady opening of spring; its structural support was glaringly lacking, I found myself feeling yo-yoed and abandoned in this whole new world of existence. Needless to say, I desperately wished to step out of my box of insecurity and sky-rocket to self-proclaimed higher grounds… but even that seemed unquestionably impossible.
These are just a few examples of April’s extremes, trust me its bipolar attitude happily swung me from one perspective to the next, and to sum up what April brought up for me: I wanted the month over. Come what may, the solution was not apparent and that the hardship was too great to bear. My heart ached, my lungs refused to inhale, be inspired by what was around. I was tired of not knowing. I felt like an impoverished guest at a poorly equipped diner, the usual fare was not on the menu. My desires of comfort were truly 86ed. What was all this misfortune and misdirection supposed to mean? My nature is to avoid suffering, the dirtiness of life, not play haphazardly with it, make mud pies, and be foolish enough to eat it, too. My general thought pattern, throughout the month’s tribulations, was: the external world contains erratic moods swings therefore I need learn to fend for myself.
At this moment a switch flipped, and I recalled my epiphany from last month: if the external world was a reflection of my inner harmony, then perhaps it was all about me being unable to see through my self-constructed obstacles. More investigation was necessary, so, through thoughtful meditation, I delved deeper into my inner self in order to truly discover my personal terra firma.
I discovered nothing, absolutely nothing. And as you might imagine, this was disappointing. I began to doubt myself, and my ability to gain any stability. I pride myself on persevering despite uncertainty. However, when it came time to rely solely upon me, no external bearings, no support from an earthly orientation, I held quiet reserve, unable to make any aspiration possible. I. did. not. believe. in. me. period. And why should I? Knowing that “nothing” was anchoring my internal taproot. I appreciated the honesty, but its straightforward nature caught me off guard, I tripped upon its sincerity and tried to make amends with myself… and… I wasn’t buying it. I became inconsolably dismayed, thrown helter-skelter back into a deeper spectrum of disbelief, a darker corner than ever entered before. If I didn’t believe in myself, then who would?
Luckily the solution to this predicament came, day 28, when I truly decided to consciously, subconsciously, unknowingly let go. It happened at Floyd’s Coffee Shop, a familiar neighborhood stomping ground. At this point in time, I was attempting to console my lost soul, and I found myself sitting across from a cup of joe and a chocolate doughnut. As one might expect, the conversation between me and these inanimate objects was solely prompted by yours truly, yet as lop-sided as it sounds, its translation was quite profound.
Last month’s postulation, popped into my head: “I am odd and yet I am even, therefore what am I?” and after an infinitesimal spark of deliberation, the answer came from one of my company: “You are a doughnut. Yes, a doughnut: a tender fleshy, circular existence with an opening for its center.” I sighed, feeling as though my intimate surroundings, the clang of the coffee shop, the chirping of customers were quickly becoming surreal. “A doughnut? You’re truly losing it,” I murmured to no one but myself.
Then the darkness of my coffee caught my attention and I focused all my senses upon it, literally wanting to black out life’s white noise, and I let go. This time I discovered something a bit new, slightly askew. The black void remained present, devoid of gridlines, matrixes, and just at that moment a customer left, and through a shifting of space light reflected wildly and beautifully within my beverage. Suddenly a solution became apparent to me. Ideas and creative thought quickly sprang forth out of the vacuum and extend into the realm of potentiality, a manifestation of anything. Literally a star was born right there within the confines of my coffee cup.
Upon closer inspection, I realized that the symbol of a doughnut precisely embodied the lessons of my spiritual turmoil. I focused in on my chocolate treat’s vacuous hole. Yes, I conceded, anything is always possible when you start with a framework of nothing therefore it is up to an individual’s choice of what to see and experience in this lifetime. All of these insights became glaringly apparent when I reflected upon the incompatibility of my inner injustices and the month of April. The more and more I attempted to understand what construct stood at my midsection, describe it with any sort of qualitative characterization, the Holy Grail appeared out of reach and unhappiness resulted. I chose to be dissatisfied with my duplicitous nothingness core. So, I quickly realigned, turned an about-Janus-face, and decided that my cipher would be comfortable, an empty space where imaginative intention could spiral into existence. And so it is thus written in the book of Kimberly Ann, how my new perspective of unshakable stability came to be: “I am nothing, therefore I remain infinite.“
To continue the analogy, the fleshy body of a doughnut is an expression of what we do, what we represent, what we put into the equations of our work, our societies, and our world at large. These constructs orbit in a 360-degree radius about us and continue to radiate (whether we know it or not) through how we think, feel, and act. It’s the cloud of what we carry around us all the time. It’s the qualifying and descriptive terms that our immediate relations use to understand us, so in essence it’s up to us to define it… and with that said, it’s important to be make these aspects pretty clear to our external audiences. For me it was about balance in any electrical storm, and through a stroke of genius, I made that possible.
Over the remaining two days of April, I began to wonder what my fleshy doughnut looks like to other people. Did I have sprinkles? Was I nutty? Curiosity got the best of me and I asked those around me, and this is what I discovered:
I am a cheerleader. One who despite all odds keeps a steady aim on any goal. When others feel disillusioned, I step up, remind them of the positive, the potential, the progression thus far, and what we need to do in order to keep on track. The Spider Plant Campaign serves as an example of this.
I am an artist. One who endeavors to create, use new mediums if need be, in order to express the beauty and the pain that surrounds all of us. The Helfgott Blog is representative of one such tour de force.
I am an observer and a collector. One who pack-rats the imperceptible: those small hand flyers in the foyers of coffee shops, images of geometric shapes off of sewer covers, four-leafed clovers, and the heart of black walnuts. I delight in the recognition of these organismal patterns, which quirkily record and evolve with our relationships to the external surroundings.
And lastly, I am a good person, as eloquently outlined by a foot traveler, someone just passing through, who was kind enough to offer conversation along a busy Belmont night.
All of these items define me. This is my shell. This is my fleshy appearance in my external existence.
Upon closing, I’d like end with these final thoughts: new knowledge presents itself with a forked tongue, especially any informational ilk that shapes us as human beings. When talking about balance specifically, this can be found in the external world; however one cannot always rely upon it. Seasonal changes and timetables for trains are mere examples of how the external can turn a cold shoulder to one’s best intentions. Change is an important aspect to life; it serves as a check-and-balance system, keeping everything dynamic. Therefore adaptation is part of life, too, and that even more importantly, when it gets chaotic (which it will, trust me on this one), it is essential to understand your point of center, your choice in the middle of your inner nothingness. Moreover, the brain contains the capacity to make sense of it all with its faculties of remembering; who knows what sort of civilization we’d have today without it. It took a doughnut, not the enlightening discussions from the Dalai Lama, for me to truly understand how to stay sane, healthy, and… well… able to lead a path devoid of unnecessary suffering. This just goes to show that our ambidextrous experiences are always up for a reinterpretation when new information comes to light. And I never would have thought to say this, but after experiencing the polarity of April, seeing the Dalai Lama has about the same profundity as a holy doughnut. Go fugure. Ich bin ein berliner all the way, baby.
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PART 5: System’s Back On-line
The month of May continued to alter my view, yet through the course of healthy pruning, words have left me with little structure to build upon for an entire article. So, poetry it is, mix things up a bit, to shed light upon the continuing saga: 12.12.12 Year of Sagely Living project. To learn about the month of May’s homework follow the blue rabbit above. Thanks for reading.
Misuse of muses
. . . . … . . .. . .
I
Five difficult pieces
2 muses
shifting, conspiring
dining in oral intercourse
chewing on crusts of prose
mulling over spicy adjectives
sparking, igniting
conjunctive flavored thought
2 muses
sitting, inspiring
exchanging vintage 65s
electrons buzzing in atmosphere
while whirlwinds of grey matter
trade deliberations for unseen considerations
smudging each other’s words
smearing lucidness
in black muting ink.
2 muses
splitting, expiring
boxed within quartered encounters
resort to diverted eyes
updates without rebates
misplaced opportunities
for future road trip escapes.
She sat with misplaced eyelash
stigmatism view
lashed to invisible chair
no longer with golden thread,
rather with intangible coarsen screws.
Play with me she whispers
coyly tugging eyelashes aside
exposing milky whiteness
surrounding hazel iris
a delicate pause…
as air molecules stagnate
cluster like soap bubbles,
rainbows reflecting light.
I cannot he says,
there was more, he replies.
. . . .. . . .. . . . . .. . .. .. .
II
“Prairie flower—
growing wilder by the hour”
No longer a muse
spindly frail frame
feathers its way
lightly suggesting form
weaving amongst familiar friends
argyling around coolly bluely lit room
desire is absent
spent on booze and buzz
remaining lashed
simply limply present
impossible to regain
reins of wild weedy horse
. . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. .
III
How does the universe realize?
She sighs, then spies
an unraveling of thread
slowly she pulls
at first with caution,
then wildly with fervor
wondering with wild wanderings
what this yarn will tell
Seams of fabric begin to split
lifting up of coffin lid
opening jaws of life
revealing blackness in crevasse
where nothing reigns
because nothing’s to gain
Collapsing expressing as combustion
splitting into equal halves
one of fleshy peach
other of Eden’s crisp apple
pitching verse in uniformed weight
seducing narrator’s eye
Anarchic spiraling ensues
as fractaling fissures fuse
geometric figures
progressively scaling character of a whole
Beethoven’s 9th
knifes the silence
into neatly sliced
white bread vision field
while string theory loses tension
and
f
a
l
l
s . ..
. … .
limply to floor.
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PART 6: Dont Play With Your Food. EAT IT!
Well, another month as ticked away some 30 days and left behind an itemized grocery list of labor intensive events, which is good. Yep, (un)fortunately, for me, everything is manifesting according to plan, and it was necessary to maintain ample time for a little R and R along the way. Thank goodness for the previous months of developing skills of balance, without those in place, not only would the candle burn at both ends, but I’d be a bit crispy in this hot summer sun. Well folks, it’s what you’ve all been waiting for, the latest, greatest update on the human experiment: the seventh installment of 12.12.12. Maestro, drum roll if you will…thank you… the homework followed by the juicy details:June- Spleen, Si 巳 (Snake)- Food choices - This category works in tandem with the previous one to help maintain the physical form of the body in an optimal way. Why this pairing? June is actually a great time to do fasting or other food restriction activities because most of us don’t feel any great desire to eat excessively in the summer heat. Further, reducing the burden on digestion will help us to focus on absorbing the pure Yang energy so abundantly available in June.
L’aperitivo: Long island iced tea
I cannot really say that eating was a priority the month of June. In fact, I had so much going on that food became a side dish to life, and the projects at hand cluttered my proverbial plate. I guess that was acceptable because naturally the world was asking me to take in less physical calories and instead absorb all of the nutritiously-packed pieces for my perfect pie in the sky that I schemed earlier this year. Each task has kept me super busy, and at times it felt like too many cooks in the kitchen left me with little resources at the end of the day. Balance was pivotal to the progress I made during the month of June, a good night’s rest and ample walks in the park kept my sanity in check. Somehow (and I’m not exactly sure how) I packed so much goodness into June, all three goals were catered to, and, in turn, delivered fabulous results. Without much adieu, I present to you a five course meal.
Le hors d’oeuvre: Battered and deep -fried cheesy sticks
The “writing masterpieces” bit remains underway; it’s hard to distinguish if the writing is really masterful because the art of text and publishing has a lot to do with skillfulness backed with persistence and patience. I’ve managed to keep several Whispering ink projects moving towards some semblance of a finishing point. 
Three meaty choices exist at his time and I hesitate to apply such words as “crackerjack” or “hot damn, this will make millions”… because only accomplished selections can be judged and awarded with a blue ribbon. The butterfly/scholarship book for the Operation Oprah: Project 61 is almost seasoned to completion due to ample help from other Helfgotteers. Now it’s about hammering out the physical format for this little ditty, putting the words between sheets of a neatly organized binding. My little book of poetry, graphite, has a collection of illustrators and lithographers literally sketching out the details for its imagery and hopefully will be done at atumn’s end. And lastly, I still have wandering aspirations to create a tribute to Mr. Bradbury himself for his Fahrenheit 451, a personal adolescent classic that my budding brain devoured at the ripe age of ten. Those thoughts for that subject are simply an accumulation of sequestered brain cells and scraps of napkin stained messages kept in paper-clipped fashion in odd areas of my home. I’ve still maintained hope for that American apple pie tribute; however, it’s on the back burner at the moment.
The blue plate special: Green eggs and ham
As for the personal plan to diligently pursue cultivation through plantlings, also known as the illustrious Spider Plant Campaign, the success is overwhelming. I’ve got green thumbs, fingers, and all ten toes. I’m up to my ears in the propagation of spider plants, heart-shaped philodendrons, numerous variegated coleii, and at least a baker’s dozen of other odd varieties of indoor plants. All types of gardeners have crawled out of the wood work, chiefly the NCNM community and alumni have rallied for the cause to introduce clean solutions to indoor pollutions, introducing easy at-home health, and green donations continue to grow. 
Currently, the campaign consists of several individuals, Pablo, an NCNM ND student, being the backbone of the program with his weekly contributive efforts, as well as collection of other beautiful individuals (of which truly keep the momentum moving forward). Extra help is always around to lend a hand when a big gig comes along, and the best part is that anyone who helps out absolutely loves working on the project.
The campaign feels a bit like a secret club, where everyone is invited, and because it takes place in the work setting, a high level of cheerfulness pervades. I’m not sure what motivates people to participate, each seems driven by different means: a break from the routine, the ability to make a difference in the life of another, or the creative, crafty quality that is inherent to the project. Who knows, I’m just glad that others believe in the idea to keep it contributing to a larger audience. We cooked up a few novel requests for a couple of big events during the month of June that allowed the Spider Plant Campaign a little basking in the lime light. Fortuitously, plans to revolutionize heath care and plant cultivation overlapped beautifully, and each made tremendous headway.
The Archimedes Movement had their first annual meeting, and a few hundred health care aware people collected from across the state of Oregon to chew over the next steps for health care reform. All day Saturday, people mulled ideas and made key connections for furthering a more positive, altruistic future for health care. Thanks to some fabulous friends, a midnight run with a heavily laden Vanagon helped me deliver around 300 plants to the conference the day before the event so that after the conference each individual got an opportunity to take home a bona fide solution to creating cleaner indoor air as a parting gift. Talk about planting the right seed in the fertile minds of thoughtful people!
Shortly thereafter, NCNM’s Environmental Action Committee and the Portland chapter Sierra Club hosted its first annual “Impact Film Festival” at the Hollywood Theatre. For several months careful planning brought together documentaries and top experts in the fields of environmental protection, health care, and legislation, in order to demonstrate how pollution and lack of awareness on the subject can perpetuate poor conditions for our community, as well for our health. Several groups coalesced, mingled, and fermented on what steps our community can do to safe guard our health and the environment at large. Leftover spider plants for the Archimedes Movement conference were served up buffet style to those still hungry for more, who devoured the densely-packed details of indoor air quality. Pretty cool…!
Le dessert: Ambrosia with a flute of champagne
Adding icing to the cake, something that I was not expecting: I was asked to be the Research Editor for the hip, tree-friendly, intentionally urban INUR Magazine. This opportunity lends an inside look at the details of editorial madness and the outlet to research for nifty writing assignments, as well as a means to incorporate naturally-minded research into mainstream media. Think meetings concocted around powwow circles with cheap beer and pages of notes colorfully littered with comic book animation. The magazine release party was also this month, and it was quite posh, beautiful people packed elbow to elbow, cluttering a gallery in Southeast Portland. Nervous butterflies plagued me throughout the night and to remedy the situation, I walked around with silver tray in hand prompting the elite to eat strawberries. As party favors each guest was given a white needled pine tree to take home and to plant; I thought that was a pretty cool idea, especially since it reiterated the magazine’s paperless publication format, so I took one, too. Not sure how this one fell into my lap, but to continue the unashamed use of puns: I’m lapping it up and enjoying every minute of it.
Digestif: A chilled tumbler of arrack
An address to all of those out there in fast-food land looking to orient and discover direction in this orientally driven task of 12.12.12, a Year of Sagely Living, a word to the wise: focus. Yes, please…whatever your intentions may be, my salty advice is to focus. Earlier this year, I thought I did just that, limiting myself to three tasks (writing masterpieces, cultivating through plantlings, and the last rather lofty goal of creating revolutions within health care). In retrospect, I must stress, a mere six months into the game, that three tasks filled with heart-felt determination does bear fruit. In fact, the triad for my sagely scope of direction is proving SO fruitful that I can hardly keep up. So. To conclude: focus. Only put items on your plate that you can finish, or (if you were raised by southern folks like myself) you’re gonna hafta sit still ’til you cleaned your plate. Otherwise, you’re gonna go to bed hungry.
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This is PART 7 in a 12 part series for the Year of Sagely Living project, entitled 12.12.12: A journey of self-discovery for a lopsided soul.
To learn more about the project 12.12.12, click here.
Today I write to you from the far side of life. Where the wild beasts roam within the souls of all of us… the space where imagination reins… purring like excited ThunderCat. I squint at the glowing computer screen, picturing the words before they arise, as I participate in the fabric, the ether of the present moment. It’s the pulse: the backbone beat of blossoming, becoming, and stepping to the tune of the drummer within. It’s the flipside of life. Teetering between past and future like an acrobat in comfortable shoes.
I write from an unabridged state of awareness, a point of view that leaves me humbled and in awe of just how big everything, literally everything, can be. And the big unseen machine moves without me. I am not a central cog, rather I am a mere speck of change, yet empowered with unlimited potential (for I deeply know and understand that I possess perseverance, compassion, and a few strands of DNA that dictate nuttiness).
I understand placement, purpose, and the fine-tuned direction I’d like to pursue in the next stages for the “Life of Kim” and none of this would be possible without light jog in the road. Literally steering myself down a road less traveled, prompting a lengthy vacation in the thick of prosperous work practices, an absolute unprecedented event for me. Thanks to the careful foresight from the earlier months this year, this segue was not the least bit rocky… although I did almost miss my plane (much to the chagrin on my mom); some things never change.
Now mind you, today is the 17th of August that I write for my July rendition of 12.12.12, a full 17th days past deadline. And as opposed to feeling guilty, the vacation brain has successfully integrated into my psyche. I simply do not care that today is the 17th of August, nor do I care that today is arbitrarily past some imaginary deadline. And, upon closer reflection of this introspection, I now know that it really doesn’t matter… in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes it will matter to me and maybe to a small scattering of you, too. Those circumstances revolve around golden-threaded moments, which can tangle you like a sticky spider’s web, but ultimately, life carries on, the bumble bees still clumsily mount the sunflowers, and the trash gets picked up once a week. You nor I are immune to the epidemic influences of time. The show must go on. But I digress.
A good friend of mine, Derek, a local Portland documentarian, mused a rather impressive comment to me the other day over a cup of lavender tea. During its initial expression, the statement was made haphazardly, strung between a series of debatable perspectives for the roles of church and state, and delicate state of affairs that we often find ourselves in when those waters get tested. However, its staccato profundity hiccupped my stream of consciousness into new streams of thought, ah yes, the 12.12.12. July piece… I really should get on with that. So I feel compelled to share it with you all here in order to tie up the loose ends of my tangential thoughts into a seemingly well-adapted homely spun, quilt pattern.
Everything goes through the heart. The heart is the litmus test that colors what you will do next. Understanding community, and where you fit in it, lies at the heart of all of change.
And this leads me to the homework for July, which is about the heart, community, and where the two with all accompanying characteristics get shuffled into the context of being human for the month of July 2008.
July - Heart, Wu 午 (Horse) - Community building/charity - This category speaks to our need to be an integral and contributing member of a number of communities. It also involves the practice of compassion in a world where inequality is the norm. Why this pairing? The summer is a wonderful time to participate in community-oriented projects! Also, the Heart and Fire (the Heart’s element) are about intimacy, about connection to Spirit — both of which are well represented in the idea behind this category.
If someone were to ever write about the craziness of coincidences for the world, and why the Farmer’s Almanac might just be the resource that millions of zealots are unconsciously searching for, I’d say its possible. Just use the guidelines for the Sagely Living Project. I say this because the homework for July (of which I did not read until just now) pretty much sums up what I experienced. Communal activities, yes. Maintaining compassion for myself and others… ye-sss… well, okay, maybe not to its fullest. Compassion for others, yes, for myself, ah, I often tend to find myself a little worn out by my adventures. You could say that I am learning to be more compassionate with myself in a rather intimate way, which is good. Knowing this will enable me to bypass any ritualistic procedures (a +), limit my time inside a cubicle (a double +), and ultimately arrive at a similar conclusion without any undue harm to my eyes, ears, or other sensorial entities (a double ++). So, in conclusion, rest assured that movement did occur as summed above. In fact, it hit me slap upside the head, plopping me fat and happy, mojito in hand, on a lawn chair in the balmy, sweaty South for a reprieve from life with a timely planned vacation.
Luckily in my earlier planning stages during the bipolar month of April, I booked a flight home to Atlanta, Georgia, for the entire month of July, where I recovered from June’s activities. Yes, June, was a month of balls to the walls chaos, each topic presenting a culmination of “next-step”cues, each demanding its just due. And somehow through the thickness of stubbornness I managed to effectively, in a nose-to-the-grindstone manner, provide the nourishment and attention to highlight each project. At the end of the month, I was exhausted, my bone marrow poreus and dry, my insides needing replenishment.
You could say that the brakes were applied to my locomotive lifestyle, engine gone grumpy from over use and lack of lubrication making all systems run hot, resulting in overheating and lack of proper ventilation. 
Rudely, I kept pursuing those goals, attempting to incite just one more ignition spark, one more “vital” push to check another item off “the list.” I became single-minded, somewhat obsessed with success. Until one fine day, the world presented a delicate pause, clustering time like soap bubbles, and only a comfortable silence remained; the machine would not budge, no more could be done. Lights appeared reminding me that an internal system is keeping the machine alive, leaving nothing to do but to sit, relax and bask in the fact that it was time to take a walk and return to the situation when the timing’s right.
The July interlude consisted of family and friends, lengthy road trips throughout the red-stained rural South, gobs of sweet, sweet cornbread and mouthwatering watermelon. Days were coated with laugher, home-cooked meals, and cut-throat card games, each entity taking place huddled around the A/C. Yes, that glorious southern Deity happily hummed everywhere I went as it sat perched in windowsill, watching with its metallic alien eyes, blowing cool air upon us all. Evenings perfumed more of the same, only softened by the outdoor wonders, the omnipresent humidity blanketing all of humanity in its heavy, big mama, one-armed hug. Everything seemed to slow everyone down. Quietude in the company of others as lightening bugs and lightening storms flitted about the skies. Best not to get too distracted though, as bloodthirsty mosquitoes aptly targeted the exposed, vulnerable flesh. Yet, alas, dear readers, this was paradise. Strategy became playful and vacationing became the norm. I will reschedule this again.
My three projects, The Spider Plant Campaign, evolving and revolving new and benevolent ideas into health care, and writing masterpieces that tempt even the illiterate, remain steadfastly moving forward… without me. Being the egocentric grasshopper that I was, i persuaded myself to let go, leave, and then I finally gave myself a genuine opportunity to learn that I really didn’t need push any of these projects forward. The momentum was there; I simply needed to trust. My projects carried on without me: none needed hand-holding, none pulled upon shirt’s sleeve demanding a bit of attention, none came crying home with skinned knees… not one. 
And I can also well imagine that not one of you out there in Internet-landia felt neglected, forgotten, left astray to the winds without my cyber soap opera. Ergo, after a delightfully crushing ego trip, I’ve blossomed anew. Knowing that time creates movement, which carries on in unseen ways.
To continue on this verbose diatribe, I shall indulge my dear readership of a few gems that sparkle in iridescent opalesce, a brilliance that leaves me feeling dumbfounded and filled with utter awe. A simple distillation of the central theme: believe. Believe in the power of what you can imagine, without its rich grandeur, this existence becomes stale and over worn with ideas too sticky let loose and too cumbersome to last through the ages. Eons have passed before us and eons will do the same without regard to the small blip of what I am, what purpose I seek, and what it is I shall accomplish in the next stages of the 12.12.12 project, let alone the remainder of my existence on earth.
Imagination, on the other hand, is the upset, the brief bridling of chaos that can take you to immeasurable experiences. Trust your imagination; follow it to the places that compose reality. If there’s one thing I’d like to impart: believe. Man, seven and a half months later, I’m a believer, becoming more and more every day. And I would’ve been oblivious to this line of fancy had it not been for a “vacation from me” spent with family, friends, nonsensical nuttiness that playfully direct me off course and into unseen considerations. The sands shall continue to shift; I’ve learned to love the grit between the toes and the weathering of form it provides.
And lastly, to admit that I am a mere speck of sand, two quotes to cap this conversive piece:
“There is no use trying,” said Alice; “one can’t believe impossible things.” “I dare say
you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” — Lewis Carroll
“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” — Buddha
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