Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

a rotter

he took the roast beast!

The depth of my calm has increased steadily, shapes forming in the shadows, a freedom that connects me to the infinity negated.

An hour of meditation can soothe ruffled feathers.  A month of meditation accomplishes little more.  There is no quick path to enlightenment.  Some things can only be learned by experience.  Decades and beyond.  Freeing the mind of thought is a difficult proposition, especially when life pitches wildly.  No matter how good we are today, tomorrow may be a whole new ballgame, and way out of our league.  Be ready for anything.  Keep focussing.

Biofeedback can teach us to control our autonomous functions - perhaps even augment our functions.  When connected to biofeedback, the goal is to listen to yourself, learn to listen to the state of your body and learn how to affect the state.  The more time devoted to correlating feedback, the deeper the understanding.  Remember, our minds are neural.  Data provides unforseen connections.

I have been in hiding, again.  My calm is becoming strong and the veil is beginning to lift.  I have been sparing myself whatever waves I can, while I prepare for the next battle.  I appreciate everyone's concern - I'm totally on-board and looking to return to the bridge in short order.  I'm particularly determined to get a serious grip on myself before I dive back into the waters - my value is orbital - I have no choice but make decisions - decide which continents to conquer first.  The postive strokes are endless, but my tendency to retreat from humanity needs to be resolved - expunged - minimized. 

I love a good struggle.  I love to learn.  Isn't life grand.  It's good to be the king.

I never hide from my kids - they provide me ample emotional coastering for my current needs.  My eX continues to self-destruct without regard for her children.  So it goes.  At least I'm nearby to catch them when she does finally fall.

We are the beautiful.  It's going to be a beautiful night.

In somber notes, the choir sang

The apple cleft below mine want

M

posted by: Malinov at 18:52 | link | comments |

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