Enter The Dragon #5

“Objectify the life of existence”
is to use our ego to find an identifiable
existence of our own mystery.

Life exists without fanfare, without our 
acknowledgment on a spiritual level within
us all, on a daily basis.

Our offspring are there, they pass through,
they bring joy, heartbreak, but they are not us.
We can only hope to bring them half the joy they have 
already brought us, by the simple act of their birth.

I love to say, “I love you” in passing, and hope it 
brings them joy, when life gets hard to handle, my simple 
egg sandwich to a hungry son, upon awakening, perhaps,
will give him joy, when he is old, and there is no one to
offer such but himself.

Spoiling is part of parenting, part of the joy of the role.
So, is the return, in their being a part of the pie.

“Objectify the life of existence”, is only the ego side of 
the adult brain, the child side does not need to give credence.
The mystery is in the magic of a tea spoon full of honey.


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by n. lynn (PM , CC ) on Thursday May 8, 2008 @ 8:56 PM   (del)



Because, it is late, I will probably forget what I am saying and not even come close to the depth of the feelings I have for the process of what it is we endeavor to do…Here. Your comment gave me pause, when I first read it. It said something very deeply to the depth of my being.

I don’t know if I can recover that time and place. But here, I will try. I could keep putting it off. It’s like this___ I usually end up writing something as a takeoff on something that is not really relevant to the present state of things. Somewhat abstract or odd and serious and spiritually endeavoring to climb up the mountain from the land in the clouds.

My mind is not trained by a professional artistic literary review of doctoral pastorates. I am from the rough streets of the somewhat odd assemblance of garage sale and ancient artifacts. Best of all, I say I don’t care, when I am called to task. So by your leave, my lady, I am so happy, that in your review of my thrashing, you caught the conflict of my heart. When reality takes the heart away, only the cold hard facts remain. 

Before I came here, I was not writing for other’s eyes. Like it or not, this is real, You may be seen, and in all likelyhood, you are. If you have any semblance of self-esteem, one doesn’t want to be seen as a dolt. My only criteria, so far, is that I maintain an inner integrity, which guides me to move the force of my nature forward. I am looking for and seeking God inside the life of me, and in everyone I meet. As in_I love you. Seeking to say_Love is what this life is about. It is what we must see and say, even when it is the last thing, seemingly in evidence. 

If I am an ego-centric, being….It has not afforded me advantage. We are all_ ego and Light…balancing things. I take your point about our children. We have, and I, myself, remain true to the edict of ‘what was the question? 

I do not have the answers for my kids. Four step children and two of my own, but loved everyone and now we are in the midst of a project, because we have a wounded bird, that doesn’t want to leave the cyber nest of _what the hell is it worth living for. He works and lives to play war. Struggling. Where’s that love…Reasoning? mister.

Tonight, my wife and I were not attuned. She said a few hurtful things about my approach. Did I mention…I returned the volley. It was mentioned that I waste my time doing this, but this is my real life…Right!.

I love_ n.lynn…That you have always given me a fair hearing. If I sound_off. It is allright.
Don’t worry about us… We are all patched up.

I enjoyed your story about the preparations for the charity event and always the dogs and kids and the home and where you are from, and now it is Spring. I am very much rooting for everything that comes your way. Good life and that picture is the one I always see in my mind’s eye when I write to you.

So thanks again for taking the time. It was lovely what you wrote. I was working at writng in the noise of my psychic pain. I really didn’t care about anyone else reading it. I was and am somewhat disappointed with our boy,27, but my wife is calming down and now it will go to the back burner on a slow burn. 

I have talked to two builders, and so things will begin to bend. Now it is time to sleep. All day tomorrow, busy bees. rain and sun. Have a lovely weekend. And give your family my best, and thank them for allowing you to write/ Sharing your soul. 
Your friend_TR

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Saturday May 10, 2008 @ 4:56 AM   (del)

Rusty, I had thee best mother’s day. It was my youngest home, all else gone for today. She promised me the ride on my horse to the water tower, we did it! It was the first time my horse successfully left the ring, since our bad experience in Minnesota.

Happy Mother’s Day to your wife, and thank her for allowing you to share your gift of thought to those in need, like me.


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by n. lynn (PM , CC ) on Sunday May 11, 2008 @ 6:27 PM   (del)

n.lynn_ It is midnight or just about. One of our friends, who hasn’t been by… in three quarters of a year_came by tonight. It was a great visit of six hours of talk and food and I had a drink and I am snockered, I think.

He was going to marry my wife’s sister at one time, but it all went down in flames. He’s an old family friend of my wife’s, that I just like very much, so it was great to see ol’ Paul. He is a bit of a hippie, who married once, a long time ago. I feel contrived and I don’t write drunk. I am not really drunk, but being tired and having some Belgium beer is too much for my constituton.

So if I were wise _ I would exit stage west. The only here_ Here _ is yawning and holding his head. I am done. I wanted to do something_ more than this, but to be true. This is probably more real than I might pretend. So I will go, and you know…it is alright. I shall return. No excuses, just one of those things. Rusty

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Thursday May 15, 2008 @ 3:00 AM   (del)

TR, just a stop by to thank you for all your kind comments and I do feel your friendship and warmth, thank you. We are hunkering down for thunderstorms tonight. But, I squeezed in a lovely ride on Rummy, he is such a gentle soul and a very smart creature.

luv ya,

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by n. lynn (PM , CC ) on Saturday May 17, 2008 @ 7:02 PM   (del)

Pictures=1000’s to you my sweet(U)….

as Hu Man man is not I(is)land

and an evolution (Heartfelt)
seemingly arid, cracked open droughtful…

is but o’erflownin’, spring-fed hopes…

newfound tendrils reach from outside(in).

with love to you,

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by luluaussi (PM , CC ) on Tuesday May 20, 2008 @ 2:26 PM   (del)

n. I wanted you to know that I got your note. It is so important to 
feel what we have found. Our lives are our source, but we are inventing the extention of that art_that gives us life. Love derived, love explained. L-O-V-E realized. meluv ya _ tr day-toon.
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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Thursday May 22, 2008 @ 2:34 AM   (del)

Lulu aussi, I am so glad that you came by again. I missed your words. 
I have been to your place to re-read again… your posts and followed them to their origin. Those are some really nice …beautiful pics and they are art and they are you and you have a beautiful dream of life in the better world. I am recognizing your contribution…your path.
Beautiful TR See you soon
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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Thursday May 22, 2008 @ 2:40 AM   (del)

Objectify the Light of Existence.
I wanted to see Something _Hopeful.

TR — Your beautiful comment to me on Much Ado last night became the sunlight of existence for me today and made me hopeful. Like you, I wish God were here, every day. But friends have each other when they can’t have God, and maybe in that way, we all have God. I can see from the comments here that you have found many good friends. Let that give you hope.

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by Moonstone (PM , CC ) on Thursday May 22, 2008 @ 1:46 PM   (del)

Hi TR. I can’t know the spirit crushing depths to which I dragged my father’s heart. There were so many years of hopelessness. Perhaps it seemed to him that they would go on forever. Once, after a telephone conversation with me, he drove to my house fully expecting to find my corpse. Now, my own sons, whom I love unreservedly, are strangers. When they were born, and for the first several years, I was someone else. Now I’ve changed; they are still as the someone else raised them. We have little to say – our worlds are so far apart. And they are right to be bewildered. Who is this man who stole their father? I say I love them, but it is without affection. I don’t like them – so much like their mother, and worse, so much like I used to be. Their road ahead is rough because of our selfishness, and I can only hope, now that they are paving their own, that it will some day bring them back home again, however circuitously. Who can say less? We write a script for our children to follow, but they don’t read it. They are too busy writing their own.   |<   <<   >>   >|


by John, the Squabbler (PM , CC ) on Wednesday June 11, 2008 @ 5:31 AM   (del)

So well put John and then we know we had something better in mind, but at every bend in the road there is a click, a pause, and a prevent the next step. What next step? The one before I get off the path. Dang! 

Experience and practice are the best teacher. Look how far you have come, brother John. It is not selfishness…It is reality. We do the best that we can, and if one’s children can not learn to observe and self protect, they will certainly make there own brand of mistake. Even if we do everything right, everything does not always go as planned. We do our best.

I wish our daughter would engender less disdain for her fellow journey-ers, including her parents. She is very bright, but sensitivity
is not always evident. She has a week’s “groundation” for her most recent slip of the lip and the manner in which it was delivered. Initially, it was painful,”the whining”, but she has settled into no phone or computer and no friends_ for a week_ on the last week of school and the week of her ballet school performances.

Life is a bummer sometimes. She’ll live. As to you, sir; I’m always getting back late. Want to write, but can’t sometimes. Chin up ol’ bean. Your a wonderful dad. You are so real and one day your boys will recognize you as the truth_ about you, and they know already what they can’t admit.
You are their Dad_ for real. And they love you. Of that I am sure.Happy Father’s Day.TR

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Monday June 16, 2008 @ 1:28 AM   (del)

Raising kids is no easy task, Rust.
You’re certainly not alone in your angst.
Best of luck with the boys/men.
And remember, they are a “part” of your life, but they are not your “life”. You can do this.
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by lagirl (PM , CC ) on Friday June 27, 2008 @ 12:09 PM   (del)

Wow you have been here a long time, sir!

I don’t have time to go back and read all your writings —-



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by AZRON (PM , CC ) on Monday September 1, 2008 @ 12:24 PM   (del)


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