On the phone, at a gas station, in our dreams
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Little Rebecca has inherited her mother’s desire to explore foreign places. She can sit in the car happily singing, sleeping or just watching the world go by for ten hours as long as she is moving on to new people and places. Some morning she’ll run to the car demanding to “go, go, go someplace.”
In his unceasing quest to keep this country great by returning himself to office in November, Gerald Ford has been making some very troubling noises about national security lately. Initially, many of us were willing to regard speeches of this sort as little more than political necessity; a Republican candidate paying homage to the more rigid, “spare the rod, spoil the Dow Jones” spirits in the conservative camp.
We all dream. Research begun in the 1950s shows that all people dream — even people who remember no dreams. “Non-dreamers” will recall dreams if they are awakened during periods of rapid eye movement (REM). These occur during periods of light sleep when the eyeballs move rapidly back and forth under closed lids, and the brain is very active. We usually have three or four REM periods a night.
One of Seth’s main points is that each of us has a personality that is far deeper and more complex than our senses lead us to think. Each of us has lived many lives, he says, and the physical reality that we are focused in is but one aspect of personal being that operates on many levels.
Contemporary builders have a set procedure for doing business. It may prove expedient and trustworthy to some and expensive and cumbersome to others. Generally it reflects the way in which we run our society in a caste system: white collar – blue collar.
Many writers, dazzled by the growth in size and power of national governments and corporate enterprises, make the mistake of calling for a single, global organ to coordinate human affairs. Their idea is to free industry from national shackles and supercharge the market by way of central organization.
Let’s see, travel. I abhor it as a general rule. No, that’s not true. I like to travel. If I were rich I would probably go to Europe. Nowadays, it’s pretty much the trip into town and whether or not the brake job I did myself is going to . . . well.
I was walking with a friend a few nights ago, sharing tales of lusty, high adventure drawn from a mid-winter’s odyssey to Boston, when Joe offered a remarkable insight: “You know, it’s the settled man who keeps the wanderer on the road.”
We’re sailin up the Limpopo River from Fool’s Tide to Pope’s Eye. In some places we can reach out and touch the dried old balls of priests hanging from the trees way out over the river.
They had locked chains around Lester’s skinny ankles. The faded blue prison shirt and pants fitted poorly on Lester’s five-eight body, all of a hundred pounds. “Lester won’t come out,” Bambi said. She was right. Lester hanged himself in his cell within the year.
Studying astronomy, as a child, I was fascinated by the Earth’s movement, its rotation on its axis, its orbit around the sun, its sweep, with the rest of the galaxy, through space. Despite the evidence of my senses, nothing stood still.
My friend, Arnold, is having a fight with the stewardess. “I will make you into salami!” he is screaming. I’m making believe I don’t know Arnold. I bury my face in a magazine, “Modern Maturity,” a few seats back from his. We are flying Astral Coach to Venus.
The photographs from this selection are available as a PDF only. Click here to download.
My main subject, as a photographer, is Durham, the community in which I live. I like also to display and publish these images within the area because it is extremely satisfying to listen to a response from people who live here.
as a turtle of eternity, to abstract within mySelf is evolutional prerogative. from such a featherstance, unmoored and let loose on the seas of cognition, my essential faculties explore the relics of significance lodged within a correspondent synchronicity which has no mercy for distortions.