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I love you

Posted on Feb 15th, 2009 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom

Simplified overview of the chemical basis of love


I wrote this about love one year ago today.  What else can I say?  Should I add these morsels from myriad others?

"I'm in chemistry with you."  Why We Love by Helen Fisher, or, as Donna Summer sang, "Chemistry, look what you've done to me,"

"Neandertals, lacking the Cro-Magnon social contract of sex-for-meat produced fewer offspring than their rivals and thus doomed themselves."  The Neandertal Enigma by James Shreeve.

"There is an equation for love." The BBC article referring to mathematician Kristin Swanson's thinking.

No.  I think I'll stick with yesterday's scribbles.

Or maybe this sums it up:

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth, "You owe me."
Look what happens with a Love like that!
It lights the whole Sky. (Hafiz)

I love you all.  No kidding, I really do.
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Tagged with: love, life

Remembering John

Posted on Jan 30th, 2009 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom

John Updike


I posted this comment on JoyBringer and Albert's blogs after reading their posts about John Updike passing. 

An interviewer once mistakenly attributed Oscar Wilde’s “There are only two tragedies in this world; the first when one does not get what one wants, the second when one does get it” to Updike, who went to great and gentle length to lead the interviewer to the truth.  He eventually arrived there, stammering “Uhhh, that wasn’t your quote was it?”  Updike slowly shook his head, smiled and patted the guy’s shoulder saying “That’s okay, I get that stuff all mixed up too.”  He was a kind genius.

Indeed he was.
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Tagged with: Updike, passing, kindness, life, love

What is the most difficult thing about your spiritual path?

Posted on Jan 29th, 2009 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for January 27, 2009:


sore feet


Bare feet on sharp stones.


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What was the last blessing in disguise you received?

Posted on Jan 28th, 2009 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for January 28, 2009:


For Example



I can't say I've ever received a blessing in disguise.  That's not to say I haven't quailed at the sight of some rumbling, monstrous visitation of the universe's intent, only that I couldn't muster up the kahunas to see it for what it was.  If it was disguised at all it was because I placed the disguise between me and it, and not because of any intrinsic quality it possessed. 

At least that's what I think.

Today.


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Wynton Wins With Wonderful Walloping Words

Posted on Jan 19th, 2009 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom
 

These words were written by Wynton Marsalis and posted today on CNN.  I thought they were pretty damn near perfect for my mood.

On the dawn of the most historic inauguration of our time, we nervously await "change we can believe in."


Politicians and pundits analyze every pre-presidential utterance and come to quick conclusions about what will happen under the new administration.


A "wait and see" attitude dampens our euphoria. Will we come together or will even harder times drive us apart?


In the din of expert voices on everything imaginable, what we don't hear is informed conversation on how central culture is to our national well-being.


Our culture provides all the proof we need that we are together, that we have always been and, in spite of difficulties, will continue to be.


It's time for us to build a new mythology based on our many cultural triumphs instead of fixating on our never-ending missteps and conflicts.


The best of America was displayed during this election. That America is in the poetry and promise of the Constitution and the writings of Hawthorne, Twain and Hemingway, in every Negro spiritual. It sings through fiddlers' reels, in the lilting interpretations of ragtime, in the optimistic majesty of John Phillip Sousa.


That America transformed the whole world of music through the horn of Louis Armstrong and has passed it down through the sound of all jazz musicians everywhere. It is the well-woven cultural tapestry of America that will endure and see us through these and other unfortunate times.


At the root of our current national dilemmas is an accepted lack of integrity. We are assaulted on all sides by corruption of such magnitude that it's hard to fathom.


Almost everything and everyone seems to be for sale. Value is assessed solely in terms of dollars. Quality is sacrificed to commerce and truthful communication is supplanted by marketing.


The type of gamesmanship that separates races, genders and ages by "preferences" is a most cynical brand. The integrity and dedication shown by American artists throughout our history provides a most needed and unequivocal counterstatement.


On the eve of Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday, let's recognize the pernicious effects of separating people by generic categories. In the fields of science and technology, we accept that one generation builds on another.


But in the popular worlds of culture, there's a generation war in which "young" is considered energetic and good and "old" equals passé and tired. So inaccurate. Culture provides a stream of forever-fresh ideas. The generations need one another.


When I was a kid, I was caught up in that same confusion. I met the great Roy Eldridge when I was in high school in New Orleans. He'd been a star for more than 40 years by then, and he was ... well ... old. I had no real idea of who he was. I had a nice big Afro and he made it clear he didn't like it.


I was playing the flugelhorn that day and he wanted me to know he had been responsible for bringing that instrument to America. I couldn't have cared less about what some old man might have done in what seemed to me like slavery times.


Some years later, at a function for the Louis Armstrong house in Queens when I was 26, Roy showed me how to play with a plunger mute and then invited me to visit him at home. I remembered our first acrimonious meeting and didn't call. He passed away soon after, and his daughter reminded me, "My father wanted you to come by."


Then I realized he had needed me and I needed him. Later, someone showed me a film of Roy in a French club playing drums back in the 1930s. He lit the club up. People were all around him, loving him and his sound. His presence was electric. I thought, "This is the old man I saw New Orleans? Hmmph! I may be making stuff happen, but a lot more went on before I was born."


The most natural revolutionary requires a conservative establishment to rebel against. The most stilted tradition must have some new vivifying energy and imagination.


At this delicate time, all of us are called upon to support and participate in this new administration. The new president cannot cure all of our ills as if waving a magic wand. But if we focus on who we are as a nation and the culture that brings us together, we will face the uncertain future with supreme confidence.


Our artists, from Melville to Coltrane, have told the tale for us and for all times. Coming together is the American way. The Founding Fathers came together. We came together after the bloody Civil War. During the Civil Rights movement, we came together.


After Hurricane Katrina, the nation unified to help the citizens of New Orleans. Jazz musicians and dancers have come together on bandstands and in ballrooms for generations. And now, with the election of Barack Obama, we once again come together on a matter of national survival.


President Obama's inauguration is not a beginning, but the continuation of a glorious history that is hallmarked by the American people's desire to be one. Our Constitution demands it. And it forces us to a life much greater than the Founding Fathers could have possibly imagined. In the words of Duke Ellington, supreme master of the blues, "The people are my people." Hallelujah.

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Tagged with: life, politics, art

The Writing Desk

Posted on Dec 31st, 2008 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom

The Writing Desk


Sometimes objects gather importance the way a diesel car gathers speed - slowly, but with inexorable progress.  Other time its a little faster.  But then maybe I'm on the wrong track here, maybe the gathering is more subjective, its nature more one of intent than of thing.  If that's the case then this picture is one of essence, an arrangement of pixels owing more to Plato's cave than the refracting and reflecting of light.

When I was first gifted with this writing desk by Jeannie and Krissy my reaction was immediate and emotional.  Tears that I hid, heartbeat that I quelled.  That first day I ran my fingertips over it in a light caress of greeting and absorption.  It is so perfect.  Perfect in its location, perfect in its size and shape, perfect in its nicks and scratches and watermarks.  Like the hoes and axes in Brin's novel, it has been practiced well but is always ready to resume the endless quest.  The question is, am I?  I hope so, in even the tiniest way.
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The History of the Universe in 200 Words or Less

Posted on Dec 16th, 2008 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom



Quantum fluctuation. Inflation. Expansion. Strong nuclear interaction. Particle-antiparticle annihilation. Deuterium and helium production. Density perturbation. Recombination. Blackbody radiation. Local contraction. Cluster formation. Reionization? Violent relaxation. Virialization. Biased galaxy formation? Turbulent fragmentation. Contraction. Ionization. Compression. Opaque hydrogen. Massive star formation. Deuterium ignition. Hydrogen fusion. Hydrogen depletion. Core contraction. Envelope expansion. Helium fusion. Carbon, oxygen, and silicon fusion. Iron production. Implosion. Supernova explosion. Metals injection. Star formation. Supernova explosion. Star formation. Condensation. Planetesimal accretion. Planetary differentiation. Crust solidification. Volatile gas expulsion. Water condensation. Water dissociation. Ozone production. Ultraviolet absorption. Photosynthetic unicellular organism. Oxidation. Mutation. Natural selection and evolution. Respiration. Cell differentiation. Sexual reproduction. Fossilization. Land exploration. Dinosaur extinction. Mammal expansion. Glaciation. Homo sapiens manifestation. Animal domestication. Food surplus production. Civilization! Innovation. Exploration. Religion. Warring nations. Empire creation and destruction. Exploration. Colonization. Taxation without representation. Revolution. Constitution. Election. Expansion. Industrialization. Rebellion. Emancipation Proclamation. Invention. Mass production. Urbanization. Immigration. World conflagration. League of Nations. Suffrage extension. Depression. World conflagration. Fission explosion. United Nations. Space exploration. Assassination. Lunar excursion. Resignation. Computerization. World Trade Organization. Terrorism. Internet expansion. Reunification. Dissolution. World-Wide Web creation. Composition. Extrapolation?



Words copyright 1996-1997 by Eric Schulman.
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Tess

Posted on Nov 12th, 2008 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom



Slinging slickly through the mid
Everything balanced;
Like a slinky arm I've kissed.


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Obama

Posted on Nov 4th, 2008 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom

Obama's victory speech was effing brilliant.  When I saw Jesse Jackson weeping I just lost it and bawled my eyes out.  I didn't know there was a weight on my shoulders until it was lifted off.  OMG...I can actually walk around with my head held high again.

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Chapter 60

Posted on Oct 7th, 2008 by kcidybom : Manager - Bank of Cosmic Connection kcidybom

It's pretty strange, this life thing.  Big boy of scalding anger, the one who fights first and asks questions later calls me "Sir" and moves deferentially, intentionally deflated, in my presence.  A yogini, a teacher of Bhakti I think, or maybe Dharma, and a habitue of Diamond Mountain and acquaintance of Geshe Michael Roach, tells me what's up without really telling me.  My sisters track me down.  I've made that difficult, but not impossible, so they do it.  My mother lies dying from a fall she would have shrugged off were she not eighty-eight.  My mother, Queen of don't make waves, allowed too many things.  To happen.  To boy me.  But I never understood.  Maybe I do now.  I whisper in her ear "I forgive you.  I'm sorry.  I love you."  My sisters say she told them to tell me she was sorry for what she had not done and that she forgave me.  Last week, before words fled her lips.  This time I go, and she says her last words.  "The World is beautiful."  Two more days and no more words.  A clock, mainspring unwinding.  It takes a long time.  I call the school.  Big boy attacked some adults, staff I presume, and will be shipped out to a residential therapeutic program.  Shit.  I see a friend I haven't seen in many years.  It's all so emotional.  I cry, he puts his arm over my shoulder and just sits.  I feel better afterward.  I still do.
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Tagged with: life, love, tomorrow
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