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Category Archives: The Mystery

How The Land of Mystereum Came To Be

Each Birth Brilliant In Its Age

“Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept
for those days before the world again plunges into darkness.“
~ Marion Zimmer Bradley ~”

Each Birth

Death is the Mother of memory, till-nurturing the soil of future dreams
From the perpetual present.

Always now. Always now.
A false sense of urgency is not warranted.
A presence to the process of the journey
Comfortable in the not-knowing,
Where forgetting, is for getting,
Makes more room for the good stuff,
Is…

May the ground rise up to support your every step.
Especially, those steps where there was no ground as you began to step,
Your Fool Step stepped into your Inner Solar System
As you cascade outwards
In your actions,

And orbit into your realm from your actionable orbits
More ground to support
Your every
Leap of faith step.

Memory is dream? Dream is memory?
Death is the Mother of memory, till-nurturing the soil of future dreams
From the perpetual present.

Both live in the perpetual present,
And simply enter from different portals,
Though they certainly enter,

Memory fueling the present
That nourishes every future dream,

Each birth,
Each birth is brilliant in its age.

“Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept
for those days before the world again plunges into darkness.“
~ Marion Zimmer Bradley ~”

Death is the Mother of memory, till-nurturing the soil of future dreams
From the perpetual present.

Always now. Always now.
A false sense of urgency is not warranted.
A presence to the process of the journey
Comfortable in the not-knowing,
Where forgetting, is for getting,
Makes more room for the good stuff,
Is…

May the ground rise up to support your every step.
Especially, those stepswhere there was no ground as you began to step,
Your Fool-Step stepped into your Inner Solar System
As you cascade outwards
In your actions,

And orbit into your realm from your actionable orbits
More ground to support
Your every
Leap of faith step.

Memory is dream? Dream is memory?
Death is the Mother of memory, till-nurturing the soil of future dreams
From the perpetual present.

Both live in the perpetual present,
And simply enter from different portals,
Though they certainly enter,

As memory fuelS the present

Nourishes every future dream,

Each birth,
Each birth is brilliant in its age,

In the way

You are born

To see differently.

Your life, Your way.

Each of your births

Embraces,

Took your whole life up to that point.

Each of your births,

Brilliant in its age.

~ Jordan Hoggard

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Healthy Allergies

I Have Two Allergies

Suffering isn’t always required for success if you’re allergic to boredom and challenge yourself. Discipline of the ritual, and Butt In The Chair is most likely required though — The BITCh Method. Butt In The Chair… or, wherever you create.

What does not kill us makes us stronger. ~ My Friend Fred

Sometimes. And ALSO, sometimes what does not kill us, doesn’t kill us because it likes us very much. When you don’t waste trouble, you don’t let your emotions dictate how you feel. You allow them to guide how you feel, though not get dissolved by them. When you don’t waste trouble… it’s not the catastrophe that’s the problem. It’s how you take it, what you make of it, your perspective on it. Perspective is key. How can you hold your mouth differently? Like an interrogative dog? How can you hold your mouth differently. It, literally, gives you a different perspective.

Adversity

Adversity is like weather coming in, that has arrived, on the mountain, above treeline, in late October, on a 14er, at 14,263 feet above sea level, on Mt Democrat, the sun dropping behind the bowl, temp from 60s to 23 to 19, and you got stuck not getting off the mountain at 2p before the storms come in, and you’re day-dressed, shorts and a T-shirt. Nature’ll kill ya, no matter your experience level. Nature’ll kill ya. That I’m writing this? I kept going. Keep going…

Pain

Being aware of experience, though, means we’re still alive, and so does pain. You don’t need to suffer, though the best thing about pain is, it let’s you know you’re still alive, and to get Home! Well, these days, that flips itself huh? Maybe you want to get OUT of home? I rather like it. Home of house. Home of place. Home of world, etc. I suggest to entertain that… the, I’ve just had an another experience, or, are having an experience. And, one can potentially make That stronger if one discerns… What’s the workability? Not responsibility. Not accountability. Workability.

Lose the reverse gear for just a moment. What’s your perspective of your experience? Don’t be anything you think you’re expected to be. Inspect your expectations. Check ‘em at the door. Heck, shake ‘em off to reveal You. If you have to, cross-check them into the blue line wall hard enough for their helmet to shatter the glass, so you can shatter your glass ceiling(s). Shake ‘em off. Oh, and sometimes all you have to do is duck, or move out of the way. It’s nothing personal, all just some action on the ice of life. Take care of yourself out there. And, don’t be afraid to smile as you slip just to the side. My joke one year was,Go ahead. Take aim. Waste of time. I’m so shot full of holes you’re gonna miss.

A ship in harbor’s safe, but that’s not what ships are for. ~ John A. Shedd

What’s your perspective?

Keep it.

In total depth of darkness, first you’ll see a spark, then a crack, and from this crack will flow your unborn soul. ~ Altered States

Adversity does not build character. It reveals it. ~ James Lane Allen

Death is the mother of memory, nourishes the future in dreams from the perpetual present. It’s always now. What will you do with all this future you have?, NOW ~ Jordan Hoggard

Your experiences

What geode gems of messages have you mined and cracked open by not wasting trouble, by working at your craft not to stave off boredom, but to build value for yourself? What was/is your takeaway message gift from them? Too numerous to remember? None yet? That’s fair.

Your Presence

May I suggest that you have Presence As Architecture, Presence As Architecture. Keep it. Upkeep it. Enhance it and reinforce it and strengthen it. Nourish its powerful limits and boundaries. Fly as high as your roots go deep. Swim as deep And infinitely as your dreams expand within you. If your roots go deep, have a strongly developed sense of yourself, words won’t move you. You may feel them, though sometimes, still no reason than to be still. Top Gun, I’ll hit the brakes and they’ll fly right by. Next.

When the roots are deep, there is no reason to fear the wind ~ African Proverb

Why flinch or grimace or dodge? Heck, you might have already been well placed. Don’t want to move into what was going to already pass right by. Strengthen your roots, develop and enhance your sense of identity and healthy boundaries. Then, there’s no cause or reason to fear the wind so to speak.

Why move 3” when blade only 1/4” wide? ~ Unknown. Mr. Miyagi?

I have 2 Allergies

Boredom. Starvation.

My allergy to boredom neverminds the other one Into oblivion.

Thanks for visiting!

Till next time.

Rock your life YOUR way!

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Thank You Tuesday Tours 052620

Thank You Tuesday Tour

052620

Enjoy the ride. Serendipity Itinerary Menu for May 26th, 2020… posted a little early in the US as my friends in OZ across the Pacific Pond are 16 hours in the future. They most likely knew 16 hours ago I’d be doing this right now.

Thank You Tuesday Tours are about sharing my weekly blog field trips, my eExperiences, so that maybe you find some new people who you resonate with, enjoy and/or follow and/or simply experience. Explore the Serendipity Itineraries Below where I share the trailhead, stacked stone cairns of paths I’ve experienced over the past week from people I follow, new people and places I’ve found, and just because they came to mind and I put them in the menu.

Reflections (c) 2009 Jordan Hoggard

There will never be a popularity contest here, nor will I list every place I’ve been, as you might be asleep by the end. I’ll keep it to 3 or 9 or 12 or… whatever number serendipity gigs with each week.

I feel life’s about experience and building value with what you magnetize to and orbit with, create and make real, and as well those who do the same for and with you. The meaning of life? Well, I’ll hop on Joseph Campbell’s boat with that one, though not the one where I have to pay the Ferry Man.

People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. … I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances with our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive. ~ Joseph Campbell

Variety may be the spice of life, and/or both/and I prefer to keep things fresh. May these Serendipity Itineraries provide gas for your creative and community fuel tanks. The rapture of being alive. Hell Yeah!

Heck, in regards my automobile, my gas mileage these days is stunning, I’m getting like 3 weeks to the gallon! I can put that time and savings into this weekly series to give back and have some fun while doing it. Enjoy the serendipity. And, as always on my blog, it’s about community, not competition.

If you have a blog or video or similar that you’ve produced that supports any comment you make here, you have my express permission to link to it in your comment. Please do. I only ask that you be thoughtful and healthy and self-serving and self-centered by pasting a link in your comment to one of your fave blogs that you’ve written. Yes, very definitely engage in some gratuitous self promotion. Gratuity? Yup, tip yourself by tipping your hat. Gift people places to go!

Self-centered is ego, and bad? Nah, not here. It simply shows you have a center, and the center needn’t necessarily be in the middle, either, or hog the limelight. Your center direction in a link will help people dive right in to immerse in your intent and content like a non-stop flight to a heartbeat and pulse of who and what you are rather than only being as good as your last post. Or, of course, link your last post and let serendipity take the path from there.

By all-means, though, self promote in your comment. I do ask that you actually comment. I’m not a clearinghouse website farm here. It’s rare, though some comments have been known to mysteriously go MIA like Earl from the Dixie Chicks. 🙂

Some people say, Don’t toot your own horn. Yup, that’s most likely fine from that person’s intent Or perspective to not be an egomanaical sap, a boring NyQuil talking head. Though, in regards to that statement here, and in general, I have s simple statement. I’m a front man, so F*ck a bunch ‘o that. By all means, toot your own horn. Somebody’s gotta start the band, right?!! Uh 1 a 2 a 1 2 3…

Jane Lurie Photography ~ powerful, evocative freeze-frames of architectural images that are definitely not secretly active. These images live out loud! They are as natural as they are refined, like an exquisitely cut emerald or sapphire or ruby refined. There’s nothing hidden in the rough here.

Christina Schmidt, MA ~ ArmedWith Coffee. Take the bait. She’ll magnetize you right in. Plus, there’s coffee, total vaccination to immunize you from boredom. Fortunately, I’m allergic to boredom, and in no way allergic to her blog. 1 of 2.

Christina Schmidt, MA ~ Sassy Scorpion Tarot. Yes, the name says it all. And, it’s all true. Intense. On, not off. Sassy, depthful, Scorpionic depths where you can immerse yourself like in a Tarot hot spring. Go for the spring, stay for the spring in your step after.

Holly Troy ~ Cosmic Holly. Perennial Gemini in bloom. Naturalized. Excellent garden with music, too!

Timothy Price ~ Off Center & Not Even. Is variety the spice of life? Go here and see!

Cristian Mihai ~ Professional Blogger. Sense & Sensibility meets the info age? He’s not afraid to say it, say whatever he says. No walking on eggshells here, well, unless he starts making compost for the garden.

Susi Bocks ~ I Write Her. You talk a good game, but can you box? Yes, Susi Bocks. Concision has never had so much consistent depth.

Karen Sealey ~ The Pure & Blessed Tarot. The Discarded Oracle is coming to life! And, other ramblings and musings with no pulled punches, and lots of exquisite surprises along the way.

Bonnie Hubly ~ Watercolors on Pinterest. Full. Robust. Full of feeling and fluid fluency and flow. Majestic. Hi Mom!

The Dihedral ~ Climbing and humor and fascination and life. Type or lead-climbing, they set their holds right.

The Alchemist’s Studio ~ Raku, vessels, Alchemy in action. Pottery with heart and soul PLUS some PUNitive humor to boot. Don’t miss the Hens!

Laleh Chini ~ A Voice From Iran. Check and inspect your expectations at the door. The storytelling, short stories, fables, and folk tales will… well, you’ll see.

Remember to Dead-head the Pansies … ya know… like Spring Cleaning… once a year whether it needs it or not… oh wait, that already happened

Have a Rockin’ Week Everybody!

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Conflict & Empathy

Oh My Is She So Afraid

I love fireworks. I’m from Texas. I don’t love guns, though I intensely like them. Heck, I’ve had too much martial arts experience and training to keep one around. If it came to that… that’s another story. I love lightning, and storms. And, I love motorcycles. Harleys, 1000cc crotch rockets on the Isle of Man TT. If I need a boost, I simply go there on YouTube and gig it like I’m the one on the bike.

But, and this is a big but. Not like the song.

I have a German Shepherd. She’s part wolf. Can see it in the face and tail and pigeon-toed paws built for speed, and the glowing Goddess eyes when the light hits them just so.

I once watched her continue to accelerate across 3/4 of a mile on an NM mesa. Faster and faster, just closing the gap on a rabbit who ran out into the middle of a literally mile-wide open space. Stupid rabbit. Wrong way to go. Though, there’s Nature. It errs sometimes. Or, does it?

Closer and closer closing the distance, until on the other side of the almost-mile the rabbit disappeared under a big boulder. A Greyhound would have had nuthin’ on what I experienced there hanging out with my chainsaw paused watching her full-gate run across the mesa and DAYum did she go through the gears. DAYum did she go through the gears, faster and faster and faster. The longer she went, the faster she got.

Though, back to… loves and intense likes. I love fireworks. I intensely like guns. Motorcycles are da bom, especially Grand Prix types at The Isle of Man. And, lightning… though, so long as I’m in the city and not above treeline with the lightning going off in the snow electrifying the whole scene not just where it strikes… I love lightning, too.

My Girrul, though, Lyra. She isn’t afraid of much, as one would imagine. Big dogs are often strong enough to be gentle, especially of course when there’s a positive part of no bad dogs, only bad owners here. She rules. She rocks. She is sovereign.

I effin LOVE her intense gigs, even when they frustrate the hell out of me. And, during these 5 times she certainly does.

Though, my Sovereign Girrul has those afraid points, and I MIND them when they occur. I talk about legitimate fear versus being afraid and anxiety kidnapping fear to distort it into being afraid, though her legitimate fears ARE AFRAID. I respect that. She’s got some shit, from before I met her, and/or naturally, that talkin’ to it, won’t resolve. A dog’s diff than a partner. The comms together to work that shit out don’t apply. She is afraid of:

Fireworks.

Guns.

Certain Motorcycles. Harleys and certain tuned crotch rockets (feels like the over 200+ mph ones… the really cool ones)

Lightning.

Shuffling cardboard. Like when you move. (Shaking head sad)

She’ll be 12 next month, or so I think. She was a rescue, pulled from the streets. She was fully groomed, only wearing an $80 deerskin collar with no tags. Those gigs set off some alarm bells early on to let her story unfold, though that’s another story for another time. Suffice it to say… No. that’s a story for another time. You learn someone over time. That deserves its own post.

Afraid Points

These afraid points she has? Full-on. It’s almost Memorial Day. The lightning gig-goosed her yesterday. Tonight, the fireworks and motorcycles zipping around literally scared the piss out of her.

It’s not the mess I have to clean up, and Nature’s Miracle to remove The smell. It’s… DAYum is she afraid! She gets like Mark Hamill in Star Wars. If she could get any closer and had a light saber, she’d slice me open and crawl inside to get out of the frigid cold of her fear.

It’s intense. It’s important. If I don’t stop everything, she will nuzzle-push between my chair and side desk tipping anything there over, which also equates to a Malbec or Carmenere on the floor and bleeding through the papers, books, etc that were spilled.

Again, it’s not the mess that’s the conflict.

It’s… Nevermind what I love, like, or full-on dig. She is SO afraid. I stop EVERYTHING so she can get as close as possible and hear soothing me-sounds. All I can do is close the windows, turn on the air conditioner, and turn up the Sonos to Phantogram or the Civil Wars o Meg Ryan or BassNectar or 7th House Radio or Jame Horner’s epics so MAYBE, just maybe, she doesn’t hear the fireworks and motorcycles and lightning and guns so intensely, or at least so much… and console her.

She is an effin Cerberus when she goes at something, though I have to say she’s pretty reserved about parsing that out. Kids? Shaking head. Not a problem. 10-month old with yogurt on his face? Turn to get a paper towel, turn back, and one lick-tongue across her lips… clean face and a kid just bouncing beaming laughing. Phewww. When that happened early on, I got it. I got her character. Without Psychological Projection or Projective Identification or even literary personification… DAYum. THIS is certainly MY dog. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

I love her. My conflict frustrations and empathy considerations? Well, that’s an alchemy that will continue. When you can’t change or evolve or adapt something… well…

What cornerstone of what you can’t change in your life do you ultimately enjoy and HAVE to brace against?

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A Song About Your Best Self

Your Former Self? Your Future Self?

Or, are you there?

Your Current Self?

Have you actionably pick-axed your hard pan Inner & Elusive Clay over the years of your process, continually amended the soil of you, and now naturally create from YOUR Place of Creation?

Hope Need Not Be a Narcotic,

Faith In Self Is More Actionable

My hope is you have, or are in your Current Self, and/or always doing so for your Future Self now in the perpetual present. Heck, if not now, when? What are you going to do with all this future you have?

For Memorial Day tomorrow, I offer my deep condolences to you for your former Self and Selves iterating back through time. May their memories be Pansy dead-headed blessings dropped at your feet that nourish your Self’s Garden’s potency now.

And, I offer a Mexican soccer announcer’s GOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL level gratitude to you for you Being you. I’d add an explanation point, though WordPress only allowS so many — well, not really, though haven;t we fooled ourselves with other peoples’ rules so many too many time?

And, the announcer above aptly took every single one of those explanation points I had available, and just put it in his GOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL action without using a single one. He’s strikingly effective in his actions that way..

How verdant and viscerally-with ablution-tingles vibrant can you be today In the rockin’ Garden of You?

My you find your Natural clariy of voice as if you were in the wild, as if your life depended on it, AND have developed it to be refined at one and the same time.

What’s Your Geode of Expression?

Moira’s Blessings,

Jordan

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Dead-heading Pansies of Self

I Culled Myself and Woke Up and Called Out

Death is the Mother of memory, the organic fertilizer that nourishes dreams, ideas, intuitions, imagination. 

What message do I have for myself from this experience?

Feel it. Hear it inside. GIve its resonance space to expand until it settles. Now, say it.

Keep it.

Pansies Are…

Dead-head your pansies in your garden, or pots, or urns, or wherever you have them. It’s a verdant gesture to keep them thriving and vibrant. There’s so much cool color when you do. So much cool color ALL the time. Dead-head the flowers as they start to wilt and drop them to the base of the plant. Death will then be the Master Gardener to nourish. Death, the mother of memory, will fertilize future flowers’ dreams. Dead-head, and that energy can go into the soil, and the energy that was going to that flower will strengthen the remaining full flowers and new growth.

patience, respect, renewal, resurrection, feeling unseen seeds cracking underground

Pansies Are Delicate, Though…

Pansies are delicate, though they are hardy. Pansies in the garden are no weaklings. Pansies are SO not pansies. Trauma works like pansies to a degree…

Perspective

So many times after an intense experiences passes, I feel there is a tendency to say, Phhuuuuueeewww. Glad that’s over. Run away! Like Monty Python. Run away! Run away! 

Is it. Is it over? Is the experience really over? Or, is The End really Just The Next Beginning? Or, is the over simply that we escaped with our life? Or, escaped to be emancipated with more life, more of ourself revealed, now more evidently present?

Maybe, instead of Glad that’s over, somewhere along the line I’ve learned to dwell IN the experience while it was still fresh just afterwards, and then not have to dwell on it as some nebulous unresolved why-dafuq-do-I-get-triggered-that-way by who knows what that reminds me subtly enough that I don’t groc it until too late, for years to come.

Feel into trauma and experience wise in time or just after. Own it. Listen to its message. Allow it to integrate itSelf on its own terms. Continue WITH it as a new asset. Feel your empathy tuned up a notch in so doing. Respect and resonate in powerful witness with the trauma messenger inside. Be grateful to the person who triggered you BEFORE you act out driven by the trauma and not the totality of what you were the moment before. Express, Thank you for digging just there. I need to breathe and feel into that. ANd, if they are a solid friend comfortable in their own skin, they’ll understand, maybe even silently stay with you for the short vigil while you acclimate to the trauma re-surfacing, powerfully and respectfully and grateful listen to it in all its ferocity and candor and quiet subtleties.

Once your trauma has re-acclimated to you as well — its birth to peel off from you to protect you and bleed off overload in the system and become a disconnected Part and be buried deep inside may Be the last time it saw you — get re-acquainted, and do so allowing the Part to lead. Don’t poison it with any words or expectations or presumptive putting words in its mouth. Allow it to speak, and do so on its own time rather than yours. The 1st session with a Part may simply be an awareness of one another session. Each encounter is different. It may leave and come back to check in later. Minutes. Days. Years. Simply reserve a place At your table for it when it presents each time.

Amending The Soil

It feels like fingers in black earth while amending the soil in the garden. If, just for a moment, I honor myself enough to be silent and still, not frozen, not in shock, silent and still, when I feel into the intense experience after I have washed up on the shore on the other side after the storm I’ve experienced has broken, I can feel-discern with a fresh clarity of vision in a new perspective framed by the experience before it evaporates. And, it informs me. It gifts me the message of my experience while it’s still fresh, instead of disappearing inside to become a trigger where the trauma is always kept fresh.

Reflections (c) 2009 Jordan Hoggard

Still near it, fresh and wet behind the ears from my birth from The experience, before it’s truly past trauma, still focused by it and immersed in it rather than by me, a bit still hanging toes in the unconscious semi-liminal, it or I may gift myself a message from the experience before I fully step back over the trauma prison of Inner Beyond to here. Psychologists have plenty of titles for this. That’s cool. Creativity is not a diagnosis or a malady or a disorder. The only titles that matter to me are Tarot Reader and Author, Astrology Reader and Author (by Blog), Artist, Poet, Writer, Alchemist, Architect, someone who is Alive. Bold. Courageous. Caring. Empathic without being mushy… unless of course we have our toes in the mud… to grow a Lotus from the mud in joyous and as-if-without-thought-or will sandbox garden.

Fearlessness doesn’t apply here. I have plenty of fears. I simply don’t let anxiety kidnap them and torture and distort them into making me afraid. Guess that helps get off the mountain when those torrentially experiential storms come in rain-singing, Nature’ll kill ya. Keep breathing, and you’re still alive so you’re still a problem. Keep breathing. Nature’ll kill ya. Nature’ll kill ya. And, Nature will make you stronger when you relive yourself of the excess, when you deadhead the pansies in the Soul Garden so they keep thriving more and more strongly towards perennial naturalization each year.

I’d stay in that place as long as it took, not running for dear life to get as far away as possible, certainly not frozen, quite the contrary. Not fight or flight or freeze. Aware. Still. Focused. Patience is not docile or omissive. Patience is concentrated strength.

I in-dwell in the feelingsense home of the space, of the place, of my recent, intense experience. Sometimes 5 seconds. Sometimes an hour. Sometimes decades cycling around through its paces throughout my psyche. No deadline, no expectation. I simply make serendipitous stumbles in meditative momentS moving forward in a powerful and respectful witness of what just occurred. I don’t waste trouble.

And, I do that until I’ve psychic-gold-panned past the experience’s rough geode exterior to see beyond the rawness in the moment to the refined, potent message. I see into to the colorfully kaleidoscopic, living crystal, juicy gemstone, geode interior. And, the message comes as my head begins nodding. Almost without fail. Almost without fail is an acceptable risk to me.

I’ve had historical friends for as long as I can remember. Sometimes they are spectators, sometimes assistants, sometimes colleagues, and sometimes I’m the spectator when I Engage in process towards the message with something like: What would my friend Fred do?; How would my friend Bill B handle this?; What does CG‘s ‘Red Book’ have to offer?

How Do You Keep It?

Who Are Your Historical Friends?

How Can They Help You Today?

How do I keep it? I keep it with an open palm up to the sky where it would nestle in my hand. No closing my hand and holding tight white knuckling to possess it. That suffocates things. Embrace it. Embrace the person or thing as a talisman, a talisman of THEMself on their terms. No need to digress into Psychological Projection or Projective Identity. Those two are the horseshit born of not owning your own stuff.

How do I embrace and meet up with inner, geode messages?

Open handed, reciprocal figure to ground touch, the Both/And touch of the Yin-Yang, the apogee master violin bow single-stroke bindus connecting inhale and exhale, forming breath as prayer. That’s how I embrace and meet up with these inner, geode messages.

Adversity doesn’t build character. It reveals it. ~ James Lane Allen

Be there. Be present. The present is perpetual.

Boundaries that create separation simply induce self-imposed anxiety. Boundaries that establish identity and distinctions can dance and immerse in one another without dissolution. I love swimming. I love swimming immersed with another and their uncut intensities even more. Fun stuff.

Then, if you‘re still alive, keep it.

And, saturation needn’t be drowning in the distress of a situation. Like a high performance, high speed, X-rated radial tire — rated for speeds over 134 mph, it’s on you to take responsibility for how far you take it above that… they’re not concerned about a court case at that level above 200 mph as that’s on you top make sure — you and your tires are filled up to 33 psi for stability, and maybe dropped to 32psi for added grip in the turns in the cold? Yes. Vrooom, shift n corner, baby! Shift n corner TOGETHER!

Message Gifts Kept

From your experiences, what gems of messages have you mined to keep?

They are yours, I respect that, and ask that you do as well. No need to comment them here. Please comment only IFF if and only if you care to and are full-on comfortable to share them. Otherwise, they are yours to tune your Soul’s liquid silence with the resonant chords of you and nurture the healthy boundaries of the Royal Castle Around You forming you as Presence As Architecture, or whatever you decide you do with… (Hey presumption, get the effa outa here and know when to shut dafuq up)

May I suggest that Your Presence Is Architecture, Presence As Architecture. Keep it. Upkeep it. Nourish its powerful limits and boundaries. Fly as high as your roots go deep. Swim as deep And infinitely as your dreams expand within.

How do you dead-head the pansies of trauma to nourish yourself by respectfully integrating them?

Experience

What Have You Mined, and Kept?

Thanks for You, as only you can be, visiting here today in the perpetual present.

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Blog (c) 2020 Jordan Hoggard

ImaginAction (c) 2008, 2011, 2012, 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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The Improv’s Confucius Say…

Confucius Say…

Man who have mosquito land on testicles learns very quickly violence not best 1st course of action.

Moira’s Blessings,
Jordan

Note; Moira is an asteroid in Astrology that rules the internal sense of time and timing. Call her your intuitive clock if you will. She is Chronos’ (Saturn/Kronos) Wife. Chiron is Chronos’ son. I’m not sure if Moira is Mom or StepMom. Mythical characters have gossip column gigs like that down pat, in spades.

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