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  This M(om)ent…with all Karmic implications and Samskaric reverberations known, accepted, and endlessly talked about…feeble yogi ilg still Thinks And Feels that fishing remains an Awes(om)e Dharmic/Conscious Parenting vehicle…if Mahayogi Jesus was a Fisherman? That’s go(o)d enough for ilg…and yeah, that is a beautiful 12″ German Brown on Dewa’s stringer along with 2 equally resplendent […]

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  This M(om)ent… Daddy and Dewa (8) as I continue introducing my daughter to my sacred vortices of my beloved Southwest…man, we had a blast…Blessed be your day, Precious is this life. My neighbor told me a coupla weeks ago after i swerved my bike like drunkard from fatigue after a local cycling Time Trial, “Oh my God! […]

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skill in WF? not important.
ability in WF? none needed.
intellectual prowess in WF? Lord no!
what matters most along this Proven Path of Wholeness?
consistency of Practice.

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Noble Sangha;
doesn’t it just seem like we spend our whole lives dancing?!

we dance in our mothers’ precious w(om)b…
we dance upon the floor until we walk…
we dance through toddlerhood…
then the big one; the Dance of Puberty
before bec(om)ing who we choose to ultimately bec(om)e…
which in itself is yet?
just another Dance.
The Dance Is All There Is…

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The earthquakes (which the Hindi’s would recognize as Shiva Dancing) expresses the Buddhist notion that all of conditioned existence, without exception, is transient, or in a constant state of flux…that everything we build – be it family, finances, temples, et. al – can all be wiped out in a m(om)ent; so we should prepare for it.

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The gods are said to live lives of fabulous luxury, reveling in every conceivable pleasure, without a thought for the spiritual dimension of life. All seems to go well until death draws near, and unexpected signs of decay appear….

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Big Medicine Day for feeble ilg..i re-visited after a couple of decades my old ‘office’ of Eldorado Canyon where during a decade i was engulfed in a tidal wave of sacred creation; where once i put up dozens of First Ascents which to this day, legions of rock climbers still monument my original ascents…oh, baby, have things changed since my near daily pilgrimages to this unspeakably precious crayola-colored canyon hallmarked by a clear, wild creek rushing over still tumbling (though be it in slow-motion) boulders.

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I am now 52 years-old – or so my 7 year-old daughter re-Minds me – and even at my young age i have – through this particular body/mind/spirit vehicle – seen so many, many things during this unique, short lifetime.

So many of my friends have died, passing into the Bardo without so much a thought as to what they were going to do when they could not inhale again.

So many people of my own age have died or lay now at home or in hospitals plugged up to tubes and the coming-and-going of unknown nurses and doctors who glance more up at the clock to see when they can go home to their addictions of comfort rather than looking deeply into those whose lives are unraveling beneath their watch.

So many Elders, including my own father, have died.

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