eating the local mosquitoes

 When you sit, let it be. Grasp at nothing. Resist nothing. 

Ajahn Chah

I dip my toes in the river where no one ever swims.

The water is cold, and I jump in anyway.

I pull a strength up into me from a place far below

And I walk across the fires of the maddened sky.

I do not die. Not yet.

The mauls of life pound me down

And I stand again anyway.

We all own that, but only if we claim it.

I turn away from the face of evil and so become free.

There is no hell, the devils live inside of us.

Cast them out.

Let the beasts come and let the earth quiver.

Whatever is next, I can face.

I do not give a damn for consequence.

I do not give a damn if I now fail.

I have already done everything that I came here to do.

James Lee Jobe 

The cry of the poor is is not always just, but if you

don't listen to it, you will never know what justice is.

Howard Zinn

In every world, there are other worlds, hidden worlds,

And in every person are many other people.

Should we question them? No.

We should bathe them in those secret streams

That flow with golden water.

We should sail with them through one of a million skies.

After all, who will stand forth and command today?

And in which world will we choose to spend

The most quiet and delicious dreams of our lives? 

James Lee Jobe 

It's always just beginning.  Everything is always just beginning.  

Jakusho Kwong

Dusk, and the bats fly out from under the causeway on Interstate 80. 250,000 strong, they've been sleeping all day in the shade, upside down, with cars and trucks passing just above them. How do they sleep through that? Our dusk is their dawn, our evening is their morning. Tonight while the people sleep, the bats will be eating the local mosquitoes. Good for them. 

Dawn, and I rise to start the coffee and open the house up to the fresh air of a summer morning. My wife sleeps on for a couple of hours. Good for her. They say you dream more right before you wake up. Yesterday I leaned in close while she slept on and I softly whispered, "bats," right in her ear. it was just about the time the bats would be returning home to sleep. Some of the mothers will hold their young all day, folded up in their wings. 

James Lee Jobe

The beauty of things must be that they end.

Jack Kerouac 

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James