Power, in human interactions, regardless of level, nearly always punches down. That’s how it can be recognized.

Most of the time, maybe almost all, we think we’re something, but we know we are not.

A summer favorite pastime is to sit on the porch as dusk fades and watch the local bat family thin the mosquito and gnat herds. Too dark and they’re too random in flight for pics or video, but an enjoyable expression of nature.

That the forces of nature have no use for words or symbols bears pause. The wind didn't cry Mary. Your mind only heard it that way.

Stages of Grounding: to become aware of the ground, to touch the ground, to experience being the ground, to remember being, to know your identity as the ground. As 🌎 to universe, so self to 🌎.

What we’ve lost: we killed the people who talked to the storms and learned what storms call themselves. Were we able to learn their names still, we could name our children storm names in respect to their lives. Naming storms human names shows how broken and isolated we are.

A compassionate mind might remember, in great detail, to notice the joy, beauty, and ecstacy of being alive.

Home run. Talk about a multi-use tool!

Schizogenic trauma: the elephant in the living room of post-modern civilization. So many things we're not supposed to notice, care, think about.

The improper fraction of society = malevolent/benevolent

I can imagine a proactive compassion. The kind that needs no suffering to incite it.

Masculine is the salt in the dish of human expression. Feminine is the nurturing fruit of nutrition and sustenance. Salt is a necessary mineral and adds taste, however the patriarchy has so salted our meal that, first unhealthy, it is now clearly poisonous. All for a dollar, land, and sex on demand.