The moon at the side reads 100% as I go to post this mad moon-induced burst of energy, David is still tingling from the rush he gets on those days, like today when he sees photographs everywhere. The greatest high there is!
Now I'm not one to debunk any conspiracy theory but I know some would see this as proof positive of chem trails over Nelson in keeping with the local urban legend. However, it is but the slow dissipation of what once was a single stream of exhaust from a passing jet, regardless it looks lovely in the early morning light.
They call him the "Valley Lama
" because he's a very trippy, schizo-homeless guy who wanders between the Slocan Valley and town and speaks of special connections to the 'ancestors
' and references two or three different gods etc. in his ramblings to whoever will lend him an ear. I often listen long and intently to his stories, for he really is a genius, and in spite of his delusions of grandeur in the grand scheme of things, he has a kind heart and sage advice. Often I will give him money, he doesn't ask, if only to practice charity as the buddhists teach. Monks go in to town to beg not for need of anything but to allow the people to practice charity, it makes them feel better. I thought perhaps when I saw the cop talking to him that they were going to throw him in jail or something because admittedly some people in town are rather afraid of him. I wanted evidence of anything that might be afoot so I took the shot. When I got close enough to hear what they were saying to each other I relaxed. it was a casual easy-going conversation in French, each fluent and adept enough to carry on the ridiculous banter. No offense to the French, or those so inclined, but to the true Scottish ear it is rather like agony to listen to.
Another slippery soul who slides about the streets of Nelson, dirt poor yet so rich within their own concepts. Dear Robert is a deeply religious and humble soul and in my opinion an incredible poet.
I mentioned to my cousin about the horses I see sometimes in the field out back of my place. It's hard to find a spot between the trees to get a clear shot but you get the idea.
It's hard to decide which is the real face on the inside of the prison that the mind trap binds us here with.
If given all the time in the day, to observe and see the stone as it meets creek, can you find the place, where the shapes start to seek, a definition that makes the most sense.
Hurricane Dave as seen from my own personal outer space!
Mind fairies dance when you give them a chance to prance as shadows through imagination fields.
If you can find the rhythm in your vision all things will be in precision and remain so balanced.
For some reason a song comes to mind a familiar refrain from a long time ago, so,
so you think you can tell
heaven from hell
blue skies from pain
can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail
a smile from a veil
do you think you can tell the parting
curtain drawn across
veil to separation of
the union sliding
as smooth as water between
then and then, to stay here now