When I heard the learn’d astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them, When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars. - Walt Whitman

Heck yeah! Makin’ the world a better place, one stall at a time. Keep it up!

Found in the wild

What happens when a civilization learns how to build without learning what it is for? GM

GM - Morning writing - bonus points if you comment what you think it says! #doodle #asemic #spiritscript #aceaspades

Perchance, you may ride very far upon a ship built, in part, by thy own two hands. But know, that though your sweat may touch every board and nail, that ship may be set toward waters unfavorable, and unyielding, to your Spirit. Woe to the soul who does not depart off such a vessel before shores that may better hold their Heart are behind. Praise be to they who see their seafaring brethren off that wrong ship before it departs for colder, harsher waters, and save the Man at expense of his Arm that could aid the crew in the tough days ahead. Steer thy rudder in waters most favored by your Spirit, friends. And always guide thy course with Love.

“Deep indeed run the roots of Evil,” said Borlas, “and the black sap is strong in them. That tree will never be slain. Let men hew it as often as they may, it will thrust up shoots again as soon as they turn aside. Not even at the Feast of Felling should the axe be hung up on the wall!” “Plainly you think you are speaking wise words,” said Saelon. “I guess that by the gloom in your voice, and by the nodding of your head. But what is this all about? Your life seems fair enough still, for an aged man that does not now go far abroad. Where have you found a shoot of your dark tree growing? In your own garden?” — The Peoples of Middle-earth, The New Shadow #tolkien #lotr #stories #middleearth

If you’ve never encountered the incredible practice called Humanistic Intervention Training, I highly recommend taking a short dive, at least once: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdZBJjXariL26n5tG6jvZ3fqLCifSgCCO&si=asLz6ZkxGB_WsKuz I’ve been a pre/post Fair volunteer at The Oregon Country Fair about twenty times, and attended this training in-person. The practice, in my words, approaches human to human conflict through a very interesting lens. It seems quite intuitive to me, but it doesn’t seem to be a common practice among folks in this beautiful world, so I’ll consider it a culture thing and get off any perceived high horse 😂 I think this practice really rocks, so let me wax about it. Each human is, unto themselves, a deep, powerfully subjective universe, sharing in an objective reality. When we find ourselves engaged in conflict, whether we are a direct participant or an outside party, we have the possibility to drop our perspective for a moment and understand, perceptively, and palpably, the experience that the other person is having. From that place, we can choose how we engage, and HIT gives us a great, simple system to check off the following boxes: - Did we get the thing resolved? - Did we have fun doing it? - Do all of us feel loved? If you’ve done these three things, then you had what we call a “three-chip interaction.” Go get yourself some chips! There are uncountable times that I have been wrong. I am constantly, and consistently, reflecting on my actions and words, especially when presented a reflection from someone that has had an interaction with me which necessitates communication. Being wrong carries guilt, shame, fear, and often a loss of hope, all of which can be supported and remedied through compassion and patience from the others involved in the conflict, and the folks in your community that are not directly involved. I revere the human being that is capable of approaching conflict with a heart for resolution, patience for the needs of each person, and a steady determination to get our three chips. I hope this practice helps to make the world a little brighter for each of you, as it has for me. I know it can be fun to be crass, sharp, edgy, and sound like the big man on campus, calling people names and putting people down who you do not agree with or directly oppose the actions or thoughts of. But I, in my small and humble opinion, think that’s a really stupid way to live. I’ve got plenty of years among the Burning Man community to know the joy and sorrow of being a humorous and clever asshole. If that’s your bag, then bag it up! But that sure isn’t mine, and there’s a lot of people in this world that respond far better to kindness, compassion, and patience. I hope HIT is another tool you can put in your belt for the long march that is breathing til’ you aren’t. Keep on rockin’ in the free world, Nostr. GM, GN, LFG, GFY, etc 😜

Got a new Samsung phone? Cut out the proprietary app-crap you never asked for with this fantastic user-level exploit:

MUO

I removed Samsung’s “unremovable” apps and my phone flies now

I did not root my phone, I just took out the trash.

On Love BY KAHLIL GIBRAN Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love. And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said: When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. • Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. • Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.” And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own under- standing of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with grati- tude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell Yesterday a child came out to wonder Caught a dragonfly inside a jar Fearful when the sky was full of thunder And tearful at the falling of a star And the seasons, they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return, we can only look Behind, from where we came And go round and round and round, in the circle game Then the child moved ten times round the seasons Skated over ten clear frozen streams Words like, "When you're older" must appease him And promises of someday make his dreams And the seasons, they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return, we can only look Behind, from where we came And go round and round and round, in the circle game 16 springs and 16 summers gone now Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town And they tell him, "Take your time, it won't be long now 'Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down" And the seasons, they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return, we can only look Behind, from where we came And go round and round and round, in the circle game So the years spin by and now the boy is 20 Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty Before the last revolving year is through And the seasons, they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return, we can only look Behind, from where we came And go round and round and round, in the circle game And go round and round and round, in the circle game Written by: Joni Mitchell Album: Ladies of the Canyon Released: 1970

"Is it possible that software is not like anything else, that it is meant to be discarded: that the whole point is to always see it as a soap bubble?" —Alan J. Perlis

From the "Dedication" page of the famous book, "Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs": This book is dedicated, in respect and admiration, to the spirit that lives in the computer. “I think that it’s extraordinarily important that we in computer science keep fun in computing. When it started out, it was an awful lot of fun. Of course, the paying customers got shaed every now and then, and aer a while we began to take their complaints seriously. We began to feel as if we really were responsible for the successful, error-free perfect use of these machines. I don’t think we are. I think we’re responsible for stretching them, seing them off in new directions, and keeping fun in the house. I hope the field of computer science never loses its sense of fun. Above all, I hope we don’t become missionaries. Don’t feel as if you’re Bible salesmen. e world has too many of those already. What you know about computing other people will learn. Don’t feel as if the key to successful computing is only in your hands. What’s in your hands, I think and hope, is intelligence: the ability to see the machine as more than when you were first led up to it, that you can make it more.” —Alan J. Perlis (April 1, 1922 – February 7, 1990) #gn

My written works are back online. Here's a little treasure, still a work-in-progress (as is all of my writing):

Gondōlla - A Galactic Spiritual Mythology

The Tragedy of Sávofei - Gondōlla - A Galactic Spiritual Mythology - Obsidian Publish

The Master of War is The Master of Mind Introduction *This work has been part of my written works now for many years. It is a tale told among the p...

The Tragedy of Sávofei This work has been part of my written works now for many years. It is a tale told among the people of my stories, and is taught at The Academy to encourage young ones to consider that their actions may be constantly and consistently watched, and they should behave in a manner that befits this. It also carries the dark connotation, in the later years within my Data Crash stories, as it bears the mark of the total domination, mind and memory, of rulers upon the lives of the people. It is one of my prouder stories, though sad, and dark. The arc of this tale is thus: Savofei was a respected General of an army. A key facet of this army is the use of a sort of mind-connected battle meditation which allows a General to see through the eyes of their soldiers, inspire them to new heights, and at need, totally control their actions. This General, at one time, meets the wife of one of his soldiers, and immediately falls madly in love. Infatuation causes a plummet in his ability to focus, and his wartime prowess begins to show cracks. Maddened by his obsession with this woman, he begins looking through his soldier's eyes off the battlefield, which culminates in a moment of passion when he takes control of his soldier while in bed with his wife, thus engaging in acts of passion through the soldier, with the soldier's wife. The tale inevitably concludes with a final stroke of madness, in which Savofei causes the soldier to be murdered on the battlefield by again taking control of his actions, and thrusting him directly into danger, thinking this would allow him then to marry the now-widowed woman of his obsession. But, we learn in the last moments, that it was Pharaoh who murdered the solider... through Savofei. In fact, it was Pharaoh who coveted the wife of the soldier most, and it was he who was acting through Savofei, instilling the madness of love in his heart, inflaming him to passion, and inevitably causing Savofei to destroy his career, and himself. Some tellings of the tale, especially those taught at The Academy of Scribes, place Pharaoh on a much holier pedestal, painting Pharaoh as a dealer of justice upon Savofei and not a desirous man. Thus follows The Tragedy of Sávofei... (follow the link above to read the tale)

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"The Republic has been organized into the first Galactic Empire..." "... for a safe, and secure, society."

GM rockstars! I love how real our content is on this platform… keep it comin’!!

We build the road At the expense of the forest. We make the data lines At the expense of planting Art. I wish for Programmers To take their rightful mount As Artists among Artists Whose craft produces magic Of the stone and of lightning Capable of stirring the Spirit As can the oils of Masters past Spilled on canvas through passions of Soul. So too we in ivory towers So close to the cold dark stars Gaze into the Universe And mettle our crafts with it. Prepare a place for Divinity And Divinity will come No matter the medium, So Programmer, Weaver of Words, Maker of Machines, Remember your place Among the greatest of Artists Where you, too, may aspire until death. #poetry #asemic #spirit