Breaking out of the System

It amazes me that people judge each other, for actions, that have no relation to their own personal well being. What it is that makes a person go out of their way to tell another how to live? The answer to me is simple, those who follow the rules feel that they are in better condition to make the lives of others a stinking mess. To all the non-rule breakers, nothing is owed to you for your sinless adherence to the laws of the land. We should make you the law men and women to decide how we, the rest of the civil disobedient and non-conformists. I would appreciate a judge that has had experience outside of the pre-determined path given forth by society. The truth is, though, I cannot judge and no other can judge me or my actions. Do no harm seems simple enough, but I cannot escape the system that pervades my every action. I walk to the store to receive the gifts of earth, that have been shipped, driven, trucked and processed in order to reach my local grocery store. So I didn't drive--what are you gonna do?

The system rewards those who keep within the lines and stays the keeper of the given system. I am disturbed at the notion that many of the greatest accomplishments and advancements of our culture have been accredited to those not willing to be a slave to the system. It is like when I say, "they say." Who are they? Do they meet daily to decide our fate? or Are we just waiting to see that the only one that can truly make the difference, in our own lives--is our own self. When looking to others for permission to be a creative being we missed the point. Nobody out there is ready to accept your own shifting path throught the trials of life. Give me a man who has never made a mistake and I will show you a corpse. An uncompromised continuace of the life and death cycle. No words to go against, no beliefs to constrain one's self to and certainly no actions that work against the fact of returning to where one came from. As basic as it may seem, we are bodies of the very system that keeps us moving. We are bodies of our collective home--earth. I do not doubt that there is much more to us, but for sake of this argument, we are the earth, air, water and the flesh of plants and animals that we consume for survival.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that we as a culture must break through the doorway that leads us, not to more technology, but returns us to the system that provides life itself. Any separation from our home will take us down a road of destruction and disillusion. We have come this far to see the results of our behavior and still all change is mere speculation and statistics. Tell me something without fear written on your face. Hope is alive and there are powers that will bring us back to one, whether we realize it or not. Make a choice and live with the idea that you are taking something from another being on this god for saken planet. We all, as humans of humanity, can have a life worth living--together. Although it may be difficult at first, the system that prevails will give to all and fulfill the many. We already are one, so let's get with the truth in its simplest forms. Nature is our teacher and we are the property of this system of knowledge. There is no escape button for you or I, so it is time to live within the harmony that this earth is trying to remind us of every secong of the day. Be well and profit for the one who matters most--the heart of thine people.

It's Been a Few Months

Welcome back, I say to myself. It seems that the computer speaks my own words back to me--in proceeding type face. I listen and watch as these words are spoken, in my mind, written, in space and time, and observed as something totally separate from the man that types before them. Writing with pad and paper was always my way of knowing if I had something worthy or not. It took years to take the step from pencil to pen, for I was unsure of my ability to write in such permanent ink. What if I messed up? People would surely know when they see the scribbled out nonesense on my page. I would much prefer the little goobers of pink eraser marks.

In life the pen is not the answer anymore-it is the key pad and updated internet connection...faster, more accessible and at the very least, an attention grabber. Ink is not permanent and erased pencil lead cannot hide the feelings that if I were to write down the wrong answer, then I would see myself as a failure. The pen was scary, it took confidence and no matter what was there to see, there was no turning back. An attempt to cross-out might show the reader exactly how frustrating it is to see what one has done and wish it were gone. I regress to a time where there was no delete button and time was real time, not virtual and separate. To be connected through lines of electronic means has taken us from connected as human to human, to a much differect beast. This one can only speak in clever tones, without facial expression and tone of voice. Anything can be misinterpreted because we judge words on a screen and leave the faces for the faceless.

I think that I might go and find a pencil, to sketch out the rest of my life. Don't worry the eraser marks will be a sign to you all that I am yet to figure it all out. It only I could erase the very nature of my personality that seeks only to destroy my best of intentions. Damn, I wore through the page. Does anyone have a clean slate to start right now over? Torn pages and pencils with flattened erasers will only bring me to a better place, a place where I can accept the words that I have spoken and the scribes that do keep track of all that I am.

I Blog

This blog thing has been fun. Thanks for all of your support. I will not be blogging for a while. I need a vacation from writing on this thing.

I just ate a piece of pizza

Twitter blog post now. It was cheesy and had sunflower seeds on it. Although they called it Hawaiian, there wasn't quite enough pineapple on it. I can't forgive them for that. My mouth asks for sweetness within the salty pork flats.

I don't think that I could ever get rid of pork in my diet. I just love the Hawaiian pizza too much. This piece that I had tonight was good, but not simple good. Keep the ingredients simple with a simple design, like canadian bacon and pineapple.

Food Without Rules

Do you know how frustrating it is to live in such an instructional world. We live by unwritten rules that show up in the recipes of our lives. It must be done this way, they say. I ask them who decides my way? They respond with the same comment as before.

I want to develope a creative allowance in the world of food. We make what we intuit from the ingredients in the fridge and the pantry. I say break the rules in your own way. They weren't there to get you closer to your best, but to re-create someone else's best.

The French put an over-medium cooked egg on a pizza. I thought that this was impossible, until I had one slice of yolky fulfillment. Then I thought, how stupid can I be? The egg and cheese bagel sandwich has been a favorite for years. Our beliefs on the way that things should be--should be let go, for what is right here and waiting to be experienced.

Bring Back the Buffalo

Stop buying so much beef. We can create a market for Buffalo and reintroduce this lands heart and wisdom. The buffalo are greatly respected among the first nation people. Grandfather Buffalo teaches us how to live within Great Spirits realm with integrity and honor.

We can change things, not with technology, but the true and natural way that North American has been in centuries lost to invention and not intention. Slow down and seek what is already there. The Earth our Earth shares all that it is with us and for the most part we just take. Give back by allowing the Spirit of Buffalo to return to the grass lands and make this land sacred again.

Right now, grocery stores have buffalo sections. Support this lean and soulfully filling meat. It cooks quick, digests well, and brings your spirit back in time, when the resources outweighed the gains. Money took priority to the life of the land and we killed off one of our greatest food supplies. Bring them back, imagine herds and herds stopping drum and bass beats in your dreams.

The Voice of Food

Another bite swallows the words from my mouth. Silence was a good sign, that salivary glands instead of voice boxes filling the space. I don't know what food has to say back, but smack smack swish and curl.

What of the crying last words of our beloved vegatables, as they enter the end of their life cycle, stopping only when they reach the groud again. And soon, new growth takes form and life is continued. If my purpose was to feed souls, I would become the nutrient and the action would perpetuate my life through another being.

There is death to the world every day and because of that we are allowed to change and find the voice that feeds. I may start talking to my food. The journey was long and refrigerated, flash frozen and baked along the way, so I pay omage to the gift that it does bring.

All the screaming local produce, telling us to please be near and be here. The driving trucks and commuters pass by as the vegatables trip to your plate took longer than your last vacation. Good thing that they are best served cold. Pick what, where and eat it? Pick it up at the farm where the same bees that buzz in your face are pollenating the crops in your neighbors back yard.

The voice of food is calling to you to be rooted in your surroundings, and understand that this will be how we support each other. I say safe travels to you, the cargo will soon become your body.