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Wet and salty skin. A curious butterfly Landed on my hand.

The Unfiltered Message: Lessons from Krishnamurti I recently listened to J. Krishnamurti, and his intensity struck me profoundly. He was an old man, yet his passion was fiery, often fueled by anger when his audience seemed to miss the core of his message. What was his message? It was simple, yet revolutionary: think for yourself. Find the truth within. Cleanse your conscience, purge it all at once. See things for what they truly are, acknowledge what you've accumulated, and then let it all go. The Practice of Letting Go Let go of all the things: your attachments, your hurts, your worries. Let go of your carefully constructed ego. These are the blocks, the thorns that prevent your luminous being from shining through. All you need to do is release what obstructs that inner light—what keeps love, joy, and enthusiasm from manifesting. It’s that easy. Practice this in the very moments you'd typically be swept away by emotion. Do you see the light emerging from within? Do you feel th...

--------------------------------------- The unstable versed version: --------------------------------------- I shiver from cold,     In darkness, the rain, The fever's still high,     I'm fighting with pain. You wait for a sign      That you'll never get. Though thoughts are just thoughts,       You cannot forget. No hope, no tomorrow.     Just books and a glass Half full and half empty...      At least we have class. ------------------------------------ The stable versed version: ------------------------------------ I shiver from cold, In darkness, the rain, Fever prolonged, I'm fighting with pain. You wait for a sign That you'll never get. Though things don't align You cannot accept. Hope for tomorrow Are books and a glass To drown the sorrow. At least we have class.

  Got my back twisted Sitting on the couch. When unassisted I act like a grouch. Looking like an ogre, Hardly in control, I have spots all over, An itching in my soul. In a day like this Time just loses power. Life could be a bliss With a long, warm shower.

With which one should I start? The one with gold in its fur? The one with the quickest nose? Or maybe the blue-eyed wonder? If you think they're all alike, Just watch them closely. Each sniff, each leap, each bark— A spirit uniquely stark. One howls like a wild forest wolf, One reads every trail you've walked, And one gazes into your very soul. I'll start talking, but who knows when I'll end?

Fly with glee, My busy bee! You are free, Can't you see? Count to three, Then show to me, The next sweet tree, Where you'll be.