Mathematics, etc.

The heat is on in my little office corner. It's a dark-ish fall day, a lovely day, but a day of quiet contemplation that reeks of a dying season.

It's a day that in earlier times would have made me sad. Today I don't feel sad, though. I'm drinking that old school tea called Good Earth, which reminds me of my Rolfer, Rob McWilliams. The little tea tag sayings are remarkable because they haven't yet adopted the typical aphorisms of yoga, or spiritual quips or anything like that (well, I guess I drink a lot of Yogi tea; never mind.) These tags quote sports figures, and scientists and novelists. But it's all kind of the same. People that have good, honest things to offer via mouth have good, honest things to offer via mouth...

Today's reads:

"In mathematics you don't understand things. You get used to them." – Johann von Neumann

Same same in spiritual practice. And, oh, what's that word that describes the idea that all intellectual or philosophical endeavors eventually pinnacle up and beg the same questions, and or get at the same truth?

There have been a handful of weird things happening in the flurry that is my life over the past few months...it's not that I understand them all, per se -- what's to understand -- but I'm getting used to them. And I'm not getting quite as ruffled as I once got. Things arise, I look at them, I consult the spiritual Casio (fx-260 SOLAR I probably picked up in 11th grade) take a good look at myself, the flurry dissolves. Love and a creak more into self understanding remains. For now, it's that easy.

I finally finished a really nice piece of jewelry -- a mala -- that I am enjoying wearing. It was quite the little trip, making her. Broke once, had to be restrung four or five times; far too many employees at the Bead Store in Longmont were in on its final construction (thank you, thank you.) My vision worsened, too, because beading is so little and so insanely meh meh meh. Beaders are truly a crazy group of people. (The guys on Car Talk think so, too, oddly enough. They talked to a beader once and they talked more about the craziness of beaders than her Pontiac, or whatever.) Anyway. I digress.

The making of this sweet necklace demanded my total, full attention and deliberate action, over and over again. Such a great reminder around my neck. She is handy, beautiful and feels nice. Self-discipline. Phoebe uses it as a teething thing; let's hope another galactic bead doesn't shear off and choke the poor girl. The necklace reminds me of my dear friend and yoga teacher,  Isha, and of long trips to India that I haven't taken.

The Fluorite apparently helps negate pixel dust's negative ju ju, as well bring order and healing to body, mind, subtle energetic fields...it feels tonifying and illuminating. I might make more of these. I want to. I have a mala in mind for my dearest Tallresa Teresa who's galavanting about in Nigeria this month. I miss her. We used to visit art museums, crystal shops, stare into piles of shells at the beach...we'd stare at these cases full of pottery, gems, mixed metal media, geode slices...whatever...and ask each other, in all seriousness: "which are you, which am I?" This took hours! Our answers were so right on. Sometimes we were surprised at our assessments of one another, but we always came to understand the analysis.

This ability to recognize myself in all things has been being groomed for years, years, lifetimes. It's easier at times than others: I am Ghandi. I am my newborn baby. I am that cute caterpillar...but in some matters I guess you can't cherry pick when it's true; it either is or it is not.

So I am that I am so ham I am green eggs and so ham, I am. Blabber blabber blabber.

It's a nice, fall day. Let it die, you. Let it die, me! Whatever it is: light the fire and let it fall to the ground and be done with it. There will probably be more tomorrow, I rest assured.