䷲
My Solstice bond fire was just two weeks worth of packaging trash. Now, what was, is burnt to a crisp in tearful salutations and grateful acknowledgement for my now ancient life to the forever young sky gods. Smog is ambrosia to these cloud-chasers. May they bless me with a new young body (your's will do... Bitch! Assume...) soon!
Richard Wilhelm, a German and contemporary of Jung, translated one of the five books of Classical Chinese culture called The Book of Changes, it's present Communist masters not withstanding. There's a story of how Wilhelm proceeded. He learned to speak Chinese and went to China to consult with a leading Master of the I Ching in order to get a practical interpretation of it. He would go to China, consult with the I Ching master, then go back to Germany and transliterate the various Chinese symbols and ideograms into the German language. At some point he would go back to China to consult with the I Ching master again to see if he had gotten it right, then go back to Germany and work on it some more. One of his consultants was C.G. Jung who wrote a detailed Forward to his German translation. Cary Baynes translated it from German to English under Wilhelm's guidance, and it was given to me as a seduction device back when that mattered to fools.
I don't know if what I've written is true to Wilhelm's intent or Baynes servitude or no. There's another translation by a formal Sinologist named James Legge that makes no practical sense to your run-of-the-mill curiosity at all. There has to be so-me me-and-thee-ing (meaning) for the ordinarily curious person to follow. We're not all pedantic as Jack Kilmon.
I may be, and so-me others (who know who they are) really, truly are. but despite that, percentage-wise, very few can be, and it's all their fault. How can you show off to people who think going along to get along is enough to pass as an ongoing passerby that may not go for your spiel? Each one of us may be special, but it's up to each one of us to know in our hearts that we're the actual children or so-me living God. Get real. Who can talk you into that? You're it, chile! You'll believe your own rhetoric even if the world goes to hell in a handbasket. No blame.
Really. I know we're all fools and we take chances that can nail us to the cross, but it's not really intentionally meant to incite murder and mayhem... right? It's just an intellectual ga-me so-me of us play that allows us to think we're a cut above the rest or, as so-me might say (if paid in gold coin), "You get it! I approve of your homogenized behavior! Be of good spirits in your advanced wordiness! Atta boy...Atta boy... ATTA BOY!!!
I started writing this as an e-mail response, but it kind of got out of hand for what I originally intended as a backhand play at support. Nobody should have to deal with a bunch of shit i made up just to be ridiculously sarcastic in order to get in the back door I created just in case, right? Or, should they? If such a portal exists, by hook or by crook, who am I to decide to keep my stopping still?
The wheatgrass project is happening in a slower time frame than either my partner-in-crime had figured. It's going, and what's growing is really pretty, but it's not growing fast enough for us to get what we thought we might need to make it a mainstay of our diet. We gotta germinate a lotta seed to have enough for that. Once we get ahead of our daily needs we can have a better idea of how to plan on how much to plant for enough to be enow.
I got an idea for planting that is easy enough to check out. I'm thinking of putting the soaked wheat berries in smaller containers, each about enough for one juicing session. I gotta go get another bag of potting soil and some containers to find out if this is a viable theory, but since it will happen in a fairly spacious green house there's no reason not to try a lot of different approaches. I'd really like to arrange things so that it could be a daily habit. That's been impossible before because I moved around so much, but it's perfect for right damned now.
䷱
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
