Never ceases to amaze me that the music i listen to speaks to me in such deep ways with complex tones…and how it always underlies who and what I am at any given time. The passion and imagination flowing in harmonious (dis)unity giving rise to all there is. Vibrations through which no one would feel sorrow, if they only chose to sing their own music. Masquerading as the speaker for the voice of god at times, lending it’s creedance and experience to the mix. Wandering around there is music everywhere…the step of your feet twisting the curve of your spine. Psychologically, my life feels empty when I have no music to listen to…no way to let my heart run free…where it can be without pain wandering the skies and the depths of consciousness infinitely…alike and different. It helps me experience the heroic side of life…the life where the magic in the music is very real. Do you pick what is heard on the radio, or does it speak to you…a confidant…an expert eye, and truely healing sage at times destructive and wrathful…wandering the peaks and valleys of such a simple wave.

One side of a conversation…

as you begin to understand how what it is works you’ll develop a much better picture of what is actually going on. that too is only one version. remember infinite versions of infinitely complex infinity. destructive cycle…for sure. waste all those other versions worth of experience and knowledge in an attempt to make a physical aspect of yourself into something new? unique? what exactly? you don’t have to find yourself…you already are yourself. see how that identity thing creeps up on you and how it seems to be a bridge…something actually existing…already…still


priest of what? who’s version is right? who’s version isn’t? why spend so much time searching for someone to tell you things you already know? who says you should by now? why limit that? still trapped in the past. move your scope to the now and how to change this now into the now that you desire.

you’re creating more of one than your falling into. but it’s mostly because your mode of thinking the way you structure your thoughts due to not understanding what it is that you’ve seen. you’re still thinking in “fabric of space-time” terms. money, erased all versions (along what time line?), someone else has knowledge like this…too late…not enough…all of these focus’ of measurement in order to let your mind rationalize the irrational. reason is too malleable to shatter. you’ll have to understand the dimensions of things before you can attach a numeric value to what you’ve seen or felt. that’s one place i started. they just have really old stuff. stuff that’s had millenia to be refined, stuff that’s closer to the historical truth than all the re-translated “loose weight now” type scams. but what is it the key to for you? which barrier? believe me when i say there never will be only one barrier, nor will they all be negative things. progress can become a barrier just the same.

that means you better figure out the truth. truth can and sometimes does exist outside of us, as part of the collective and objective reality. my truth does not work as your truth.

so is Thoth…my “house” is not a pyramid so much as a cave with peculiar geometries inside a mountain, which slowly over time is becoming something complete and of it’s own. it’s had a redecoration since that story was written. do you believe the world was created in 6 days like the old testament? hehe…it is built of crystals now.

we all have our parts to play. from what to what and why? just don’t let it make you psychotic. power is not the word you should be using, that’s a political construct. everyone has access to it. it’s there for everyone to share, but you don’t even know what you’d be looking for in the library should i place you at it’s catalog. it contains all knowledge. that’s what they might find in Cleopatra’s tomb. what really happened isn’t as important as why it happened. the destination is not always as important as the journey.

there are always going to be wars, battles. there is no end, no beginning…just a continuation. change cycles. ebb and flow. rise and fall. storm and calm. people have to choose to watch and pay attention to reality, otherwise it’s stuck in their “blind spots”. sometimes. sometimes any number of things. think in terms of probability patterns, as clouds of potential and possibility. *shrugs* i don’t usually make it that far into people. most people ‘stop’ way before that, hehe. because you are god. Temet Nosce. “Know Thyself”. latin, from the original greek.

What more am I?

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What more am I, than a unique product of a lack of understanding in the world. I am not shaped of myself, but of the void left behind while people suffer around me. My decisions are not mine, but the choices yearned for by those around me. A compilation of everyone I have ever met, and everyone that I have ever wanted to be. My goals are not mine, but those of the world around me. My purpose has never been one of my own, but shaped by the directional needs of the pain I watch the world I live in suffer with. At times, I have sought refuge in the ways I have grown accustomed to over the years. Providing direction to those who need it more than I. My purpose once thought to be as an inspiration to others, to show them how to easily provide a pathway to achieve what it was that they desired. Beauty, tranquility and peace. The pains that I have suffered, that I would not wish on any other living soul have been my muse, my guide and my cross to bear. What direction do I have left of my own that is not simply the direction of what is missing in those around me? The need for love, for want…acceptance? Are these not things that I surely have only by virtue that those around me seek them out, some albeit unknowingly? What direction do any of us have that is not made by what those around us need and desire?

Success is not built upon itself, but upon the back of failure and suffering. Failure is bred from a lack of understanding. In it’s purest form, this lack of knowledge and experience is hacked through brute force, until a suitable solution to a single puzzle is found, though not through understanding. Through attempt after attempt, try after try, until either a random chance occurrence or simple lack of possibilities brings about a desired result. “Eureka!” I’ve arrived at my intended destination! The very question I asked, now contains a reasonable point of conclusion. Does it not sway you then to it’s narrowly defined ways? Why then do people still feel empty inside? Why is their lack of understanding the very breeding ground for what I accept as a “purpose” in my life? The directions I move are naught but those which seem absent in those around me. Gently pushing while violently falling into orbit around that which I literally feel missing in the world. Will it tear me apart? No. It will not. Not because of my strength of character, and not because of the sheer choice of my will, but because when I stop those around me from being torn apart, I no longer reflect that pain. I no longer am in agony with that suffering, because it no longer is prevalent where before it was overwhelming. Where still does this leave me? I am only full because I sate the hunger around me. I am only me, because those around me need direction…and it appears that my direction is never my own, but theirs. Inevitably, this leads me to wonder why…and I guess to arrive at the answer, I must first find someone with the same question as I.

Wouldn’t it be ironic? A weird question about HIV…

In my latest round of weird “that makes sense” and “what if”…i’ve been researching touch deprivation, and it’s effects on living things. Two main symptoms. Physically, immunosuppression. Psychologically, increased aggression and anger.

Does the fact that we have become a secularized society which has drifted further and further away from close intimate contact with each other have a side effect of creating an opportunity for an immunosuppressing virus to evolve and become HIV?

What if the easiest way to begin to overcome the virus is to simply come closer together with each other…as a people? Could that be part of the cure?

This we may never know…

What my mother wrote about Katrina…and her experience.

Approx Aug 16, 2004
Cody called today while I was at work. He left a message at home with Jim, telling me to call him as soon as possible, that it was important.

When I finally got to call him, he told me he was in the hospital once again, this time he had Meningitis. The doctors were working on him around the clock to keep his fever down and to keep his pain and headaches under control. The doctors were going to put in what they call a pick line through his arm directly into his heart. They would deliver medicine to him that way. He said the medicine had a tendency to break down veins and the heart being muscle would not break down as much. He would need to take medicine this way for a couple of weeks.

Within the next few days we spoke often. I talked with Dr. Hadderly, who was his doctor and he told me that Cody had been through some rough days. His fever had run around 106 & 107. They had packed him in ice and cooling blankets. They had to do spinal taps on him to relieve the water and pressure on his brain. This went on numerous time within the next 48 hours. Finally the day came that he said the spinal taps were getting farther and farther apart. His fever was breaking and he was only having around 102 fevers. He seemed to be getting better physically and mentally. By Saturday, he seemed to be getting better.

Sunday Aug 28, 2005

That weekend, I had taken Crystal to Studio City to a casting call for America’s Next Top Model. I had woke up Sunday morning in the Motel and jumped into the shower. When I came out Crystal had been watching the news and Hurricane Katrina had crossed Florida and hit the gulf waters and had escalated into a category 5 hurricane and was heading for New Orleans. I got right on the phone and called Cody at the hospital. He felt things would be ok. I could only trust his judgement and knew he was still quite ill. I believe they removed all medications and pick line a couple of days early because of the coming disaster. Little did they know how big a disaster it would turn out to be, and he was probably safest in the hospital where he could get trained medical help.

Cody had been better the last couple of days and was ok, but not really out of the woods yet. I started asking him about the hurricane and what precautions they were taking. New Orleans was being evacuated as quickly as they could, and the hospital had evacuated some patients out, but the rest were going to stay. He was not to be evacuated and reassured me that he would be fine. He said that they had removed his IV and pick line and would receive the rest of his medicine in pill form. I guess they thought he would be fine with only a couple of days left of his two week treatment. He did not feel he was ill enough anymore to be evacuated, and would ride out the storm.

He felt confident that he would be ok on the 9th floor and that the building was an old building that had withstood many storms. Even if there was to be a storm surge, they would be ok because they were moving everyone to the top floors. Since he was in the hospital I felt that he would be in a good spot for time being. I told him I would call him Monday morning and see how he was doing at that time. Katrina was not to be hitting them until then. That’s when I started watching TV. We drove home Sunday night and I constantly watched the news to see how bad things were being predicted. It looked bad and kept getting worse. Over night Katrina would hit and I would see in the morning how things were.


Monday morning came and went, Katrina had hit. Phones were down for some reason during Monday and part of Tuesday. I was glued to the TV and watched in horror. It just kept getting worse. By Monday night the hurricane had passed and the devastation started to be apparent. Tuesday the horror started setting in. Setting in my home, I could only feel despair with what they were all beginning to go through, knowing my son was in the middle of it all. I finally got through on Tuesday afternoon to Charity Hospital and spoke with my son. Without power they had no TV and with his illness and medications, he had no clue what was really happening around him. I spoke with him for awhile, I tried to convey the state of emergency New Orleans was in, however he couldn’t grasp it. I told him to keep me informed of what was going on there since the phones were working and said I would talk to him on Wednesday. I had returned from southern California and was preparing to drive to northern California to see my mom before school started here. I watched every news channel we have, over and over again. The death and destruction was unimaginable to me. I could not believe what they were all going through there and as a mother, I could not help make it better. It seemed hopeless and I was helpless.


I Talked with Cody on Wednesday after being horrified by what I saw on tv and tried to again tell him that New Orleans had be fatally wounded as tactfully as I could. I knew from talking with him what a fragile state he was in, just escaping death from a illness, and being close to death again from a natural disaster and the humans around him. Being in the hospital there he was removed from reality, which at that point was not all that bad. I told him I was driving to Grandmas and I would call as soon as I arrived. He said that they had just walked in and told him to get his stuff together that he was to be evacuated immediately. We got off the phone, Cody assuring me he would let me know where he ended up, and I continued to be glued to the tv I felt a little better knowing they were evacuating them so quickly after the hurricane hit, and he said things were not horrific there yet. I couldn’t explain the pain the city was in, and he couldn’t tell being isolated there at the hospital.

The next morning I drove for 8 hours to my mothers house in Northern California. When I arrived that afternoon, my mom met me at the door and asked what hospital Cody was in. I told her Charity Hospital. She said you might want to watch this. This is where I lost track of Cody for the next four days.

It seems that Charity Hospital was one of the big problem areas because no one was able to get in and evacuate the patients due to snipers, water, etc. The media had reported that there were snipers shooting at the helicopters as they tried to evacuate, and people were dying in the roof while waiting for someone to come. There were reports of a hostage situation in the hospital. I am not sure what was real or not, but at the time it was all I knew. Charity hospital became a big focal point for the news media. I tried calling the phone number that we had just talked on the day before and was unable to get anyone. The phone rang and rang but no one answered. I was not sure what was going on, however, the day before Cody and said he was being evacuated at noon and I had not heard from him since then. I thought he had been evacuated, but the more I watched the news, the more I felt he had not left the hospital when we had last talked, and with his last illness being as severe an illness as meningitis, I began to feel panic. I really felt lost at that point. You start thinking so many things, like how can I help, how can I find my son. What can I do? Maybe I should drive over there and get him. As though anyone could even drive into New Orleans.

I went to sleep late that Thursday night after sitting all day watching a city die, unable to walk away from the publicity and slept fitfully, unable to stop seeing all the death and destruction that was occurring, knowing full well that Cody was in the middle of it, if he were even still alive.


I started watching the news constantly, changing from one station to another, trying to get a glimpse of anything concerning Charity hospital. None of it was good. All I could find was how the patients were beginning to die and bodies were being stored in the stairwells for a make shift morgue. They had no food or water, and how they broadcasted help numbers all over the air for family members to call to get information. I started writing them down and began calling everyone I could get. Of course I could not get through any phone lines and the website really had no information on individuals at that point, being they were just getting up and running.

New Orleans began its death gurgle. I did not want anyone to be going through what they were going through, let alone my son also. After watching a small part of New York die on 9/11 all the emotions came flooding back, leaving me feeling useless, alone and not able to help protect those who could not help protect themselves. I had been to New Orleans in April for a brief 24 hours while Cody had been almost killed in the Toulane Emergency Room by being given a combination of drugs he was allergic to. I saw a small part of the City from the airport to the hospital and back, and surrounding the hospital. It was beautiful, and I had wanted to go back but from what I was hearing and seeing on TV there was nothing to go back to, it was all gone. What a waste. It had such charm and character.

I could not talk with Cody to make sure he was alright and from what the media was telling me I felt that no one could be ok there, not even Cody. With Meningitis they have unusually high fevers and can not control them without packing them in ice and using cooling blankets. They did not have electricity, water, ice, etc. How could he be surviving?

By Thursday night, they aired a special on TV concerning Charity Hospital and the people still trapped there and the horrible conditions there. I knew he had not left, a mothers intuition I guess, but I knew he was still there.

I woke up the next morning early, and began watching the news. I started calling the Red Cross numbers and finally someone answered. They were unable to tell me anything, but they did take my information in case they found him and could contact me. As this whole scenario had started unfolding, a friend of Cody’s, who had my phone number, contacted me at home concerned about Cody’s conditions and the coming hurricane. He kept in touch with me by phone or email through the whole ordeal and was a big comfort through the whole thing. He boosted my hope and spirits many times through the next four days.

Late that day, I finally logged onto the Red Cross web site and posted Cody as missing. It was a hard thing to do after watching the death toll rise quickly everyday. All I could do was wait. They say no news is good news, however, we all knew that no good news could come out of the city that was dying. I tried to turn the TV off, or leave the room or house to try to get away from all the horror that was being broadcast on the news. All life went on everywhere else, as though not much had happened. My mom did not have web access at her house so I had to drive 10 minutes into town and sit at a coffee shop to go online. They all talked of the disaster, but I felt they were detached and could not see that anyone had ties to it like I did. It was hard to even go to public places where people were enjoying themselves and had all their creature comforts around them, while people were being beaten to death, raped or dying from other problems that this interruption to life had caused. It was a waiting game now.

I kept calling my husband who had stayed at home due to work. I made him go home and check the phone constantly to see if Cody had called or someone had called. I knew he would have to call collect because he told me he had lost everything at the hospital. I was not home to take a collect call therefore no message would be left. I was ready to leave for home just to be near the phone the next day. That night I made my husband check the numbers that had called the house through caller ID. A number showed up that I was not familiar with, however I could not get through to that number. I called Cody’s half sister and asked her to call their dad to see if they had heard from him. She said she would, but they usually did not answer their phone and were gone from the house a lot. She would get back to me when she heard from them.

Again, you go to bed exhausted, with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, but know you need sleep. The news channels were no help.


The next morning, Missy, Cody’s half sister called me. She talked with her father and they had received a collect call from Cody. He was in Birmingham, Alabama in a hospital there. Finally, there was news, I called immediately. He was not in good spirits, safe, but depressed. He cried, and said he just wanted to come home. I cried, my mom cried. I decided that I would fly him home as soon as he could travel. Being a 26 year old, with ties to New Orleans, he did not want to come home.

After some time on the phone, and making sure he was alright, he told me how to access his website. He asked me to post on his website that he was ok and where he was. I posted to his website and began receiving emails from many of his friends. They were all relieved, and so caring. They continued to email me to keep up with Cody’s situation until he was able to go online and start catching up with everyone.

He had not left the hospital when we last talked on that Wednesday after Katrina had hit. He left it a couple of days later after a couple of attempts, then spent two days at the airport/triage area before being flown out. A day or two in Birmingham left him in sort of good condition, and all he wanted to do was leave the hospital. His friend Adam, that had been in touch with me through the whole ordeal offered him a place to go and to help him with his recovery. He got on the next plane and flew to Orlando where he spent the next couple of months recouping before returning to New Orleans. And that is another story.

Seems i’ve gone missing

It was written before as I read it again
A slight to the state that my heart has been in
Built underneath, how i covered the holes
Thought I could fill them by completing goals

It seems that I’ve almost forgotten inside
Lost in the ways of this new tattered hide
This passion that grows with impunity
With a mind of it’s own irregardless of me

Action has spoken, and it’s telling no tales
The structure I’ve built out of thousands of nails
The hollow within seem to howl in the wind
As it’s loosing its heat to the spaces within

How I endeavor to name the void left behind
As i see it create all the struggles i find
While I think what I see is from outside in
All I see is myself standing center again.



So in the inclusion of all this stuff that I have committed to doing…I needed to get something to handle my schedule. In order to handle the schedule, i had an alarm set for myself that would go off every morning letting me know what is going on that day.

I lost that phone. No more alarm. No more schedule. Two weeks later, i’ve missed a ton of appointments. Nothing that won’t be so difficult to get back into the flow of things with…but still. It’s brought up an important issue. Slacking.

I become more reliant on other things…other pieces of equipment to keep track of my life. Why I don’t just do this myself is beyond me at this point. My mind is more than capable of handling everything that this technology is doing for me. I started relying on an alarm…and now it seems that my internal clock is not being used. That will change. I started relying on a schedule…(albeit i’m going to start keeping it again…but online)…and now i’m left with a hole in my life…where I used to be, that got replaced by some technology…that is now lost. It seems that it took my mind with it.


just another reminder to rely on myself…(though that only works when I don’t loose things)

guess all i can do at this point is step up the effort i put into life. Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean i shouldn’t put effort into keeping it that way.

i’m usually better than this. I should continue to do so.

The Next Step…

So here’s an update for those who have not been in my immediate arena over the past year. I miss and LOVE all of you…even the ones who don’t deserve it sometimes.

I moved here October 26th last year…and spent my first halloween at home alone…and found a great solace in my new surroundings. I picked up parkour, in addition to the contact juggling…which has now also become spinning poi and my new hobby, contact staff. Some of these led to an option to begin taking a new Martial Art…Bagua Zhang. Chinese Internal Martial Art…Gao Style. I’ve gone beyond the focus and flow…i’m well aware how to focus. I’ve been going with the flow lately, and it’s leading me in some pretty incredible directions.

Parkour is an art/discipline where you move quickly and efficiently through your environment, overcoming all obstacles using nothing but the tools of your body. Parkour was developed as an escape methodology and has evolved into a philosophy that is continually changing the lives of the people who begin it’s training.

Along with Parkour, came a new friend. Tyson Cecka…who was starting up a non profit organization to help spread the philosophy and discipline of parkour to kids in schools as a viable and low cost option to people with no specific athletic talent. I know how the military changed me…instilling discipline. Now I’m watching these traceurs become self reliant, motivated and socially interactive and athletic. It’s teaching them how to overcome any obstacle by continuing to think and correct themselves in order to reach their intended goal. Watching this translate into their life is very hopeful for society.

So Tyson started the Pacific Northwest Parkour Association (PNWPA) and filed for it’s tax exempt status. After talking with him a bit and learning more about what he needed…it was exactly what i’ve been wanting to do for so long…as any of you who’ve known me for years has heard me talking about. I volunteered my time to write a grant and help them with some promotions and event production stuff…taking the company and it’s vision to help fight childhood obesity to the companies, schools and families of Seattle.

I’ve been asked to help with another grant, and have to be at rehersal for a stage show my juggling landed me in this week…opening on the 15th…if i remember correctly.

This new phone i got is beginning to collect my schedule?!?!?!?

My health has been steady. NO HEADACHES! T-cells at 125 since february, but undetectable since then as well! I love accupuncture, hate hills, still don’t like the cold…and find the sun coming out to play with me like a best friend…which is really weird…i have a tan…and five pairs of shoes and need new ones already! *shrugs*

The ball is officially rolling for the things that I wanted to do for a living…gather free money for non profit organizations…and show people how one person can and DOES make a difference.

*dives behind the couch*

inspiration from an unlikely source…

For those of you who don’t already know…start with this story about a man who lit himself on fire last night on the University of Washington campus.

I stood today, while a mormon talked with me…offering me the chance to do more than stand and stare at the roped off section of red square. There was only a single bouquett of flowers. The groundskeeper pulled up with the power washer to clean up what was left of the mess. I remarked that it must be a sobering job.

I stood today…wondering what I could take from this incident…what could it mean to me in my life. I got home, and looked up the news…and read many stories…and I found it. Something that brings me joy to have even heard about.

Students had him and the fire put out before anyone else got there.

One student wrestled with the man to keep him from dousing himself…nearly costing him as well.

These are examples of character that I must accordingly give due notice. In a place that I wholly did not expect to ever see such an example of what humans should be for each other…comes a very strong sense of hope now. Hope that people are not lost. Hope that there are those who care…and care enough to help. It takes a very special kind of person to risk and sacrifice personal injury (especially to a gasoline fire) to help this man…and it was shown by SEVERAL…not just one.

I got away from hope a long time ago…you will often hear me remark about how I think “hope” was the worst thing let out of pandora’s box…because it’s that last sliver of hope that drags things out forever.

I just realized however…that some things deserve that hope…some things deserve that time…that dedication

Personally, I would like to commend people and characters like that…and regardless of whether or not this makes it to them…it’s still worth noting to anyone. Would that we could all have such character…

I saw a sign on the bus today…just after bidding farewell to the spirit of the man who may just have found what he was looking for. It’s rang a specific bell in my head that i’ve been hanging on to for a while.

and i’ll leave you with Marcus Aurelius and Ghandi.

“Quit talking about great souls and how they should be. Become one yourself!” “Become the change you want to see in the world.”