Earth

Atmosphere rises from the green and separate layers to hover

To reveal more or less and cover

She lays on her side

Voluptuous woman all relaxed as she meets the water

She'll change color as the sun sets

As we rotate around our star

She'll change for the ages

Unimaginably so

Dust blows

And she adorns herself appropriately

Boatyard Blues

Stuck on the hard and watching the fresh breeze build from the Northwest I contemplate the daily fees I accrue as I wait for parts, paint to dry, and the endless teak I'll will sand and varnish only to have to start at the beginning again as I finish the last. I tell myself I will sail again. I will surf again. I will love a human again...but today and the days to come I am a prisoner. A prisoner of responsibility and choice. I will inhale the toxic dust and immerse my hands into poisonous thinners and cleaners. I will make myself into the size of a bilge rat and crank on bolts that have not moved in 30 years. I will love my boat. I am her cellmate, her bitch. I will grind her without protection......for my eyes because there is no room for glasses in the engine compartment...only room for my one hand and her shaft. For her freedom will be my freedom. I will toss her salad and spend all my commissary and give it to her. I will sing the boatyard blues and caress her keel and paint her bottom. I belong to her.

The Free Agent

Law and order is beyond the scope of practice for the free agent

She leaves that to the masses

The free agent of the mind does not comply to policy

Voted on by the classes

She understands

Patriotism of the lonely stands for one thing only.

The truth seeks out the free agent of thought

To rest calmly in the heart of understanding

To sleep as a giant

The free agent is home to opposition, the enemy of state

Fate...

It is the the "Golden Rule"

The rule of hypocrisy

Questions democracy

And knows the answer

That fear and hate by the majority is cancer.

The free agent of truth knows these things and practices bravery

Fights the mind of slavery

And understands that peace is the equilibrium to war...

Not more war

I'm Okay

I drink too much only to narrow my mind

To say inappropriate things and jump to conclusions

Aside from that I'm okay

I'm a selfish SOB who's out of control when he thinks he's in control

I confess too much only to clear my head for totally selfish reasons

To apologize and move on

I'm okay

I hear the movement of people and footsteps in a lonely house

With the windows open and a cool air to carry the dog barks and passing cars to my ears

I'm okay

I'm breathing and caffeinated

Eating and warm beneath my clothes

With cold feet and hands

I crawl on ground that owns me

I'm okay

I change my ways and am drawn by means unbeknownst to me

I am judged and concluded

Better and worse than the last

I'm okay

I will do something for the first time over and over again

And stay fit to be snotty when it counts

I know who I am

...and I'm okay

Raider Fan

I'm a Raider fan...

I don't flat brim my hat or wear baggy pants

I put on clothes that fit and I look good when I can

I can mix 2 stroke oil with gasoline by eye and get the 50 to 1 ratio right

I keep my mouth closed when using the weed whacker

I can weld, mix cement, plumb a post and rotate my own tires

I'm a Raider fan because I'm faithful

Because my dad was a Raider fan

Because I grew up in the East Bay

I take care of my business, own my own house and pay my bills on time

I treat my family well and love them...yet

They make fun of me for being a Raider fan

It does not compute to them why I am a Raider fan

My son early on realized that he was better than me by simply being a Ravens fan

WTF!

I'm still a Raiders fan

So please, Raiders, restore my dignity in the eyes of my son by kicking the Ravens' asses

Door No More

Broken and busted, swept up and packed neatly into a box

Moments before it slammed shut it was just a door

It's a door no more

Now it is something else...

Pieces and remnants

It's scrap wood...kindling for starting fires

A relationship, a fourth, fifth or sixth chance

I don't know, I lost count, I lost my way

I must say the cedar fresh sent was lovely as I smashed it, cut it and gathered up the pieces

What a beautiful solid door that was

I bet one can't find a door like that anymore

I wonder what something like that costs?

Maybe I could build one...or maybe the person who choose to slam and break it could build one

Come to think of it, I'm  too tired to build one

And I like the idea that there are some doors that just shouldn't exist

Like the one's for shutting out the whole world

The Big One

I can't say I've seen a lot, nor can you

I've seen a lot of the same over and over

A face or two

Insolent behavior and opulent decor

Things we wish not and vote for

It is a reality of repeats, inescapable defeats 

Disguised and painted to look different like victory

Flavored novelty and change... it's irony

Wisdom and truth is always the same

The Big One I like to call it

It's the keeper of the space in between

The ruin comes when we look for a change of scene

Enjoy the view

...the one in front of you

Ukelele

The sound of hope and the rising sun played on

...upon a fretted board and nylon strings tuned to G, C, E, and A

Blisters and mahogany

Resonate the ear in front of me

Beat the heart that's inside of me

Play a sad note... all minor and flat

To remind me of happiness and time that's past

And I'll take care of you

... so happy when I am blue

My body to the sea

Follw me

Deep I will go to a lovely embrace

Not cold nor dark will I mind

Just tidal breath will you find

Commit my soul to the ocean and I will never be missed

Forgotten...maybe

But never lost or lonely will my company be

Moonlight Mile

Navajo Land (time lapse)

Love Life

I'm sitting at an airport bar knowing I have a designated driver

I hope he's more sober than me and has more experience flying an aircraft

I have none

The dusty road I leave behind will be missed as well as my brother

My brother at birth

My brother at heart

I look forward to when we meet again

Not in the afterlife

....but the real life

'Cause I hope the pilot lands the fucking airplane

Safely

So that I'm still alive

Healthy and whole

So that I can do it all over again

Fly without flapping my arms

Shove my body into an unnatural postion

Pucker up and throw my life into the hands of someone, I don't know, don't trust

I insanely pay for the privelege

Fuck it...I'm driving next time

I'll be able to bring more stuff like weapons and a backpack

I'll be able to see the headlights of death and explore the canyons and mesas of life

Stoned Tracks

I've walked a million years  upon tires of rubber and steel

Red dirt and sand roads lead to a mystery and time

The stoned tracks laid before me were more organic and silent than mine

Violent...maybe

But a harmony of whole and understanding without knowledge

Just being

Being giants and small all the same

Son, it's time...

Time to do the things for yourself that you can

I'll help you with the things you can't do by yourself

But you have to ask

I may not reach out to you all the time

Yet my arms are always open to you

Don't lie to yourself

Silence any critical voice in your head

It's bullshit and if listened to will result in heartache

I no longer see you as a child

Yet I'm still your father

Although you may be done being my son

You're still my son

I will not tolerate disrespect

When you yell I'll stop listening

When you speak to me I'll hear you

When you make a mistake I'll forgive you

But it makes no difference if you don't forgive yourself

I have nothing to offer you if that's what you choose to believe

I have many things to offer you if truth is what you seek

I've made many mistakes that you don't have to make

Question everything to uncover the truth

Not to hate but to love

Be curious

Listen

Be quiet

Be still

Be strong...like water

Humility is the water that will breakdown the hardest stone
 
Follow your heart and respect the hearts around you

Many of them have been broken...just like yours

Finally...

Always keep in mind that you are one of 7 billion people on this planet, so...

You're not alone

I gave her paper flowers

Made to burn and wish upon

To ignite a hope that one day she'll be free

Free of me and all the prisons she has built for herself

I have given her nothing but I can say I shared with her

Time, child and love

My paper heart knows that the flowers I give her will be ash one day

I will gladly watch her run away as the paper flowers burn today

Box

I watched the movers fill a truck with my neighbor's belongings today

Everything fit neatly into a nice dimensional box

Little boxes placed into a bigger yet little box that could be driven away

Driven to another place where it all could be unloaded and arranged into another dimensional box

This time maybe a bigger box than where it used to reside...or at least one with a better view

Maybe this new box is within walking distance to a boxy school, boxy hospital and boxy stores

Maybe it will be nearby a boxy job

Wherever the stuff ends up it will arrive upon paved roads traveled by many

All linear roads and sidewalks lead to boxy things

And so we live our lives with boxy underwear, boxy minds and boxy hearts

Imagine if there was a wilderness...a place where oceans, forests and sky all came together

To wander aimlessly and join the stars billions of miles away and into blackness that's infinity

Where a box is nothing and light is free to travel everywhere

Dad, Wine and Baba O'Riley

My dad liked wine

He liked to taste wine, he liked to drink wine and I'm sure he liked how wine made him feel

I do

He also liked classical music

I do

I appreciate wine and my Father's sensibilities...now

But he never appreciated mine

I liked beer, tequila, a line of cocaine and Rock 'n Roll

I wanted to smash my violin across my mom's face

After I played The Who's "Baba O'riley"

Is that art?

But of course I wouldn't

...smash my violin

I loved my violin

I would play the solo violin part of "Baba O'Riley" with headphones on and a head full of THC

My Dad would drink wine and listen to my mom ask if that was music I was supposed to be practicing

And all I could hear was,

"It's only teenage wasteland, it's only teenage wasteland...They're all wasted!"

Today I hear the song and all I can hear is,

"I don't need to be forgiven, I don't need to fight to prove I'm right!"

...and I no longer want to smash my mom's face

And I'm not my Dad!

Ship of a Fool

A wrecked vessel upon a reef of childhood memories lay waste to a voyage beyond

I am the captain with no ship and a faint sadness threatens to crumble my snottiness into tears

Fortunately I can stand

It's shallow... and if it were not, I can swim

But scared of open water

The abysmal depth of dark, brackish and cold waters I have felt have been satisfying

I seem to enjoy those non metaphorical bodies of liquid although I'm scared while crossing

Now I stand grounded upon an uncharted, bony reef

Stuck!

It's time to swim

And I realize I was captain to no crew

I never needed a fucking ship

I was always told I needed one

What a fool I've been

Light Wind Tashiba

The Splinter

The splinter beneath my skin makes me feel bad today

A rash has broken through my facade as I try to heal from my old ways

All my appetites are back and it itches like crazy

I'll try not to be lazy

Maybe the ceiling will collapse on me and fall through the floor into dirt

The dark hurt

The dusty place of the heart when revealed breathes easy

Freeze me

Until a time in which I can be cured

Reassured...

They tell me it's just a spilnter

The only problem is that they've never had one

Not like this

I've forgotten how to kiss

And all they can say is...

Fill in the blank

Because we have all heard the stupid fucking words

...and the splinter continues to fester

Good Morning Man

The Good Morning Man rests his head upon the pillow and burns the timbers of his mind

As sunrise lights a color of fire on his cheek chafed with time

The Good Morning Man moves his fingers stiffly upon his joints and cracks the limbs in two

As morning air fills his nose...an aroma of new

'More to work with today than yesterday' as the Good Morning Man likes to say

He's awakened the dawn of responsibility

Expanding dreams a possibility

And beyond the daydreams?

Darkness and sleepy scenes of burning forests of imagination

Fresh will be the soil of a brand new world

Good night Good Morning Man, good night 

Live and Die On Your Birthday

I welcome the newcomers with some advice

Don't live your life according to a plan, but plan on having friends and family

Wander about aimlessly for awhile and make some mistakes

I did

If you, newby, asked me how to live

I would tell you how to die

For the answer to life lay in the heart of the brave who understand that you live and die on your birthday

Leave the world headfirst...as you entered

Never be dragged by your feet and refuse to crawl

And always, always share your heart

Leave it behind for others so that you may travel light

And I always believed that some good last words would be "Happy Birthday! "

My brother had a globe of the world in his room when I was growing up and when he wasn't home I would sneak into his sacred space, knowing he would kick my ass if he ever found out, and I would locate my home near San Francisco then spin the globe, stop it randomly and wish I was there.

Right where it stopped I'd find myself in another world within a world. Mongolia, Russia, Argentina, Java would stop below my pointed finger and more often my finger pointed to the middle of some ocean or sea. I understood the globe was covered mostly with water but what fascinated me was what was it like in the middle of the ocean. And it fascinates me today and probably will till I die.

I've never been more than a 125 miles offshore, out of sight of land. So, I have a pretty good idea of what it literally looks like, but the thought of being thousands of miles from any point of land feels like freedom. Not the comfortable, familiar freedom that one feels when leaving work or going to recess at school, but the insecure uncertain scary freedom that maybe a child feels when learning to swim when they push off the wall into the deep end for the first time. That's a freedom most of us forget about. The "fuck it, here I go" freedom. 

I will cross an ocean to get to the other side because I want to grow up.

I don't want to play in the shallow end anymore.

I want to be a grown up without a job, responsibilities or dependents.

A selfish man on a quest to find himself in the middle of the ocean like some foolish aquatic astronaut looking into the vast open space, using celestial bodies to guide him away and toward a shore faraway. 

I will arrive tired and weary.

I will sleep and dream in this foreign place. I will be an alien of a different skin color.

I will speak another language and they will ask where I'm from and I will point to the sea. 

They will understand. 

Remains

The time traveled spectrum of a spent life runs ragged and true

The end is where memories are left for those who remain

If they wish to remember...the remainders

What remains will you leave behind?

Colors of a distinct life which can be scratched and sniffed and peeled away to get to the flavor...

or white washed walls all bland and tasteless

Maybe you wish to remain anonymous to sink to the bottom of the sea of a life well lived

An ocean of happiness

All that remains are thoughts of the heart and never your name

An immortal existence within the spirit of the living, all cozy and nameless

Yes!...That is how I wish to be forgotten

I'll leave my name and body for someone else to use and my soul will be mine

Secrets in the Mirror

Dear Son,
I'm sorry I kept secrets from you. I'm sorry that I kept secrets...period. I'm sad and I will show you how I'm sad and why I'm sad. I'm scared and I will show you why I'm scared and how I get scared. After that I'll be glad and you can be mad. I know what it's like to be mad...very mad.
I was mad after my father beat me. I would run from him after I pissed off my mother for some forgotten reason. It doesn't really matter why. I just remember he would say, "...come here you  little shit!" before the slap across the face, the back, then the face again. It stung red like shame, indignity and hate. That was a good day. He missed my ear. The worst was when he hit my ear. It would ring and I would hear voices that whispered. They whispered shameful things yet they weren't words I could understand, but they were definitely words.
I learned not to run from him that just made him even more mad. I took it standing and afterward I would look in the mirror to see the welts, the redness and tears. The tears from the pain had gone and the tears of shame remained.
I got really fucking mad one time after a beating and tore my room apart. My dad had to replace all the dry wall on one wall and rehang the shelves.
There were times my mom had to pull my dad off of me. One time I heard her say, "...you're gonna kill him. Stop!"
The worst was watching my brother get beat. I would watch and cry for him. Afterward I would check on him in his room. He was checking his face in the mirror. He would look at me and say, "I'm okay." Of course he wasn't. The mirror didn't lie.

The Zen of Crawling Under the House

Don my coveralls and I will move through time upon my belly

Spiders are my friends and they will not mind that I destroy their webby nests, but welcome the challenge to create. I am their teacher.

The rabid racoon only exists in the dark, damp space of the mind and not within the crawl space of real time... and if it is so, my Mag Lite will light the way and crush the bandits skull into oblivion

The seismic condition of the earth will hold my life in the palm of its hand and show mercy

I shall be immune to the claustrophobic confines of my fears and the Hantavirus which has just been liberated from its dead mouse fecal tomb I just disrupted with my hand and inhaled deeply its dust

I am one with the dark musty universe and abandoned wiring that lay across my back

I will go forth brave and undeterred to repair that which needs be and return a holy man baptized by dust, dirt, and crawly things unimaginable and parasitic

I am...

66 Days At Sea On A Capsized Pearson Alberg 35...Yeah , Right!

The media must have this info wrong. I can believe this guy survives 66 days on a upright Alberg 35 looking like he does, but no way did he sit on an "overturned " boat for 64 days (he claimed his boat capsized 2 days into his trip) and come away looking that good. If it is all true, then this dude is a fucking specimen. More than likely the media misreported that the sailboat was "overturned" when he was rescued. A narrow beamed, heavily ballasted, full keel Alberg 35 is going to right itself quickly or sink after being capsized.
Here's a link to a post that I thought explained it very well: http://wavetrain.net/news-a-views/659-louis-jordan-in-the-gulf-stream-rescued-after-66-days-adrift-on-an-alberg-35
Update:
I'm feeling better now that the corporate news networks are correcting their initial reports on this incident to reflect something more believable (i.e. the boat righted itself after being demasted).

What if There Was a God But Not Anymore?... and Other Bullshit and Maybe Some Manic Ice Cream

I often ask myself  would it matter if there was a "God", and the answer I come up with is No! Would it change anything in my life that has already occurred or waiting to occur? No!

Free will, as the Bible suggest, was given to us by "God"  and it is a funny thing to consider when what humans have chosen to do as a whole with that free will may result in the ultimate extinction of all life as we know it. For what purpose has the experiment of the human race by a supreme being been for? Amusement? Knowledge? Maybe "God" thought it entertaining to watch what "It" created destroyed. Maybe "God" is actually a four year old who likes to watch the tower of blocks he built tumble and crash to floor. He likes the noise it makes, the mess. The idea He can create and destroy something is pretty cool. Humans like that too. It's also mentioned in the Bible that "God" created us in His own image. That explains a lot. It's no mystery anymore to me. If there is a "God", He has forgotten about his children or simply doesn't care. After all there comes a point when Father has to let go. Let's be honest. How long, as a parent, would you enable your children to behave like assholes before you cut the proverbial umbilical cord? Well that's a question with many answers because I've seen plenty of parents enable bad behavior for lifetimes, so I guess the answer for some would be till I die. Maybe "God" is dead and what remains is nothing more than an imagination created and perpetually existing in a universe built to hold all His things, His stuff, His toys and children that will never grow up. 

It's a depressing thought. I know. I try not to think about such things often and I rarely talk about such things because I notice people eventually stop talking to me. I only talk about such things with fellow lunatics and we sit around and wonder what it's all for. Whether "God" is dead or gone, one thing for sure is, we know how to behave. We know how to care for one another including other living things. We know how to take action and create, destroy and love. 

1 John chapter 4 verse 8 states, Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 
We have known "God", although many of us have forgotten. It's just that free will kinda fucks it all up. I don't know. I suppose for those of us who have the capacity and the will to love are obligated to do so. The rest who choose not to or just don't have the capacity (because let's face it, there are people who are born without that capacity and those abused beyond hope to love)...well there gonna be an obstacle and a challenge to work around. So, I guess it comes down to you choosing to love or being a fucking obstacle. 
I know it's really hard...well impossible to love everything , everybody all the time and I don't recommend it even if you could because you'll just enable all the assholes. But I do recommend that during those times that you're feeling like watching the world burn, eat some ice cream. It's really good and may restore your faith in humanity. 
I love the fucker who invented ice cream. That dude who made the first ice cream was really feeling the love that day. Can you imagine a world without ice cream. Holy Shit! And ice cream has been around since 200BC. That's right...since before Jesus Christ and there were poems written about it in China. But, do we know about the dude who invented "ice cheese", as it was referred to in China? No! We know about Jesus. 
Jesus was a cool guy and would probably love ice cream or "ice cheese" if it was available to him and it would probably have been served at the last supper and all, because he was all about the love. Can you imagine how Christianity would have taken off if it served ice cream as the body of Christ instead of bread at its Eucharist? Talk about love baby! Make mine a Sundae and pour some more of that raspberry sauce (blood of Christ of course) on mine. Sundae, Sunday...that's funny. I digress.
If I could give ice cream to every person on the face of the earth right now, I would...even the lactose intolerant ones. They could just eat it and deal with the cramping and diarrhea afterward, because it's all about the love and it's the thought that counts. Seriously, if I knew someone was lactose intolerant, I wouldn't give them ice cream. I would give them a hug instead and tell them I'm so sorry you can't eat ice cream you poor son of a bitch.
And that's  what it comes down to. Feeling the love. What's your intention? Because when it comes to ice cream, I think the intentions are pretty good. So is a hug, unless you're some creepy dude just trying feel the breast of some hot MILF pressed up against your body. That's when a hug is just creepy and most of us know who you are...
I forget where I was going with this. Oh yeah, be clear on your intention before you take action and if glory is your goal then go start your own religion where you are the one and only Deity to be worshipped by weak, close minded followers who can be controlled, exploited and cast away into a fiery pit of hell forever if they don't agree with you.

New manual windlass

In my effort to get our Tashiba 31 as self sufficient as possible, I installed a manual windlass made by Lofrans. It is of good quality and a quarter of the cost of a replacement for the Muir Cougar windlass that was originally installed on Oriana, plus it's powered by good old fashioned muscle instead of electricity which can fail. Originally I had taken apart the old windlass which is powered  basically by a starter motor in hopes to fix it only to find the stators completely corroded.  In fact one of them turned to dust in my hands. That's what 30 years of a marine environment can do when things aren't properly maintained. Anyway, I replaced the old with the new. And in order to use the existing mounting holes, I fabricated a mount out of 1/4" stainless steel plate which I drilled holes in that matched the original windlass. Then I bolted the Lofrans on to the steel plate and through bolted the plate through the bowsprit and deck. Here are the results:

The Lofrans Royal manual windlass Installed. Notice how it lines up with the hawse pipe. Works very nicely by the way.

Yacht Delivery Log

7 feet nine seconds
No wind
Whales
Lighthouse only working as a marker for a graveyard of ships and postcard fodder
Phosphorescent green glow
Cold
Good company
Lights of red and green lay way
Anchor nice
Sleep tight
Morning
Rudely boarded by uniformed safety pirates
They found nothing
Current offered unwanted help
Two hours off the flood tide allowed for feeble brained docking
Pride and mussel crusted fender only casualty
Much fussing with lines by the dock apes
Need banana and a beer

Equipped with the minds of masters they roam the halls of thought

The conversations are intriguing and ridiculous all the same

As if the final agreement to chaos is order

But truth is the real casualty to the argument

When lost in the maze of the mind the truth is the maze does not exist

The very existence of the free mind is a threat to the well equipped masters of the small mind

The ones who perpetrate the illusion that there are doors not to be looked behind are lost, alone and scared

The walls that build the corridors of their hearts are nothing but fear

Billions have let the few

The few have prohibit the billions

All on the premise that the heart and mind divided is the only reality

And that the walls of fear dictate your direction

Now...

Imagine the lovely

The open space where it is impossible to get lost

A place to flow in and out of like a breath

Life and death

A freedom to love with pain and joy

A rhythm that is existence itself

Continuous without fear

A universe expanding

True Love

Two Pets

I have an iRobot that vacuums my floors

It moves about methodically, running into things like a retarded R2D2

Working noisily without complaint

Randomly cleaning without any sense at all

It's an annoying pet

I have to feed it electricity, clean it, set a schedule for it, which by the way I have to adhere to

Twice a week at 10 O'clock I have to pick up furniture to prepare its canvass for work

Then I watch it sweep the floor like a lunatic, as if I'll gain some insight to its crazy mathematical pattern

A life altering moment of bliss brought about by insanity... usually within an hour

My cat watches safely from atop the stairs for totally different reasons

Probably thinking to himself

"That fucking thing ain't natural"

He's terrified of it and rightly so...

If the iRobot could clean up cat vomit, cough up its own hairball of dust and dirt into the trash, then I think I've found the perfect symbiotic relationship

Until that day... I have to take care of two pets

Life's Window

I make every effort to shut off my senses

Not completely

Just to a dull momentum to stay in tune

To notice the harmonious,

The unstable gloriousness,

The comfort of manmade things imitating the color of nature that I can watch through my window...

Is the feel of sage as comfortable as its scent

I prefer its scent all the while knowing to run my grasp through its leaves releases its wonderful fragrance

Is the sight of ocean fog as warm through my glass as it is felt upon my skin

A cool, smoky hand of the sea reaching out and caressing the land as if in love

Are the needles of pine and its sticky pitch as green through my eyes as sting upon my stitch

I have felt these things...I know

I know the pain, the cold, the stringent odor of life and motion is for me and all those who wish to notice

I no longer have to imagine, I've experienced, I've loved

Pretty Lights

Follow me into the abysmal caress of infatuation and I will show you only one thing is lovely

Everything will disappear into the dark but one

Faintly lit it will be your only light and guide

one direction

Falling

You will feel the cold hand upon your back  pushing...then shoving

Warmth seeks out no one, but is willing to be found selflessly

The fantasy is that it somehow wants you

That is but a dim, pretty light and forgotten

Give and you'll be found

Rain

Poured hills of grey along the rusted river way

Crackling and the shackling of water can be heard

Moisture everywhere

Can almost swim through the air

Maybe drink the atmosphere while cold tears bundle into streams and spit off the glass and wetness falls upon sadness and dies

Caring not nor cry

An absolute unforgiving lullaby

The Reality of "God"

Can we agree on the definition of "God"?

A reality as opposed to a being, a thing, an individual

A reality we can change with our own free will, love and understanding

A reality which encompasses all

How about a consciousness that excepts the reality that we're all lost and finding our way

A consciousness that exposes and excepts responsibility for the choices one makes and forgives...to allow redemption, room to breathe and freedom

A peace within the harmony of death and destruction and creation and life

Maybe "God" is a moment, a heart beat in time in which we are all brought together as conscious beings to see one another as essential parts of one reality

A reality that all life is conscious and sacred

If we can agree on that definition of "God", then we all have the same reality

Huachinango Bottom Job

One last bottom job before we turn over Huachinango to her new owners.

Farewell Huachinango!