THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Friday, February 26, 2021

 HYMN TO THE SILENCE


The first time a child looks up at the sky in the daylight from within the silence of a still brain to behold the blue of it there what is heard can be crudely described as a sound of wordless wonder we all once knew well and have forgotten- “I am blue. What can be on the other side of that big blueness?” 


The child is so  recently aware of the time spent in a watery dark place from which it then popped forth into the air to take its first breath. That experience stimulates a wonder about the big blue sky.


Later, when every child has its first view of a cloudless night time sky the answer to the child’s wonder-filled quest comes complete and clear and whole and the child knows itself for the second time. Birth was the first time we were introduced to ourselves.


But not for long because adults will not permit such folly.


We, as adults, no longer even have the question to ask ourselves. We say something to ourselves with words like”It is daytime, about nine a.m. and the sky is blue in the daytime. And that’s all there is to it.” So no answer will be noticed by us under the night sky at all since we lost the question in a storehouse of thoughts as memories. Our brains are now too dull and bored to care. Albert Einstein, for one, stands out so brilliantly among us because he was a child in a grown-up’s body. He asked himself, “What in the world is light?” And spent the majority of his time playing with the quest for the knowledge he sought so single-mindedly.


It will not be the last time for the question and its answer for all of us though. Death awaits us all. Time will come for ”What is on the other side of this?” And to some lucky children a kind of death while still living in a human form is also given. Perhaps for you this is that opportunity knocking? Break free from the cocoon of cramped tradition. Know thyself.


Let Us Milk A Cow By The Hand Of Love And Share The Ice Cream.     Ran Smith Dairy

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

 IF I WERE A SWAN


If I were a swan
I would ride high
above my own white
weight. I would ride
through the lightening
of the earth
and the darkening,
stillness and turbulence
coming on in the core
of me, and spreading
to the hard rain,
to the dazzle. Leaves
would turn, but I
would keep my eyes
in my head, watching
for grasses. This
is what I would know
deeply: the feathering
of my bones
against the bank.
For the rest,
I would be the easiest
wave, loving just enough
for nature's sake.
The world would move
under me and I would always be exactly where I am, dragonflies
angling around my head.
Under the black mask
of my face, I would think
swan, swan,
which would be nothing
but a riding, a hunger,
a ruffle more pointed
than wind and waves,
and a hot-orange
beak like an arrow. 

-Fleda Brown 


Sunday, February 21, 2021

 

SELF KNOWLEDGE


Forsaking all else, with dedication, seek within that which cannot be taken from you and what you find there take to be your actual endowment. Once known, all else you require will be added to you as your gratitude naturally rises. And such gratitude is the forerunner of true happiness.


Otherwise, you will always seek what will be taken from you and never shall  meet yourself who misses you more than you can imagine to be so. In that great longing will arise many sorrows. Satisfy that and know what you are.


Let Us Milk A Cow By The Hand Of Love And Share The Ice Cream.     Ran Smith Dairy

Monday, February 8, 2021

 THE BIG DIFFERENCE


I have been interested lately in developing a relationship with a guitar. It was a surprise to me when I found it among items I had stored away a few years ago. Didn’t know I had one. It’s pretty.


This morning I received an email from a friendly music geek concerning active versus passive listening. I read a bit of it.

It says: The human brain has the capacity to perceive about 11 million bits of information per second and suddenly there came a shift to the difference between active living and passive living…inside me and for me I stopped reading. 


There is such a difference and that difference is all anyone needs to be one’s own inspiration now.


I shall resist a temptation to elaborate upon the preceding sentence and give my reader a break. I am not taking credit for such a decision. Just say I shifted from passive living to active living and we both benefitted.  Keep coming back.  I need your company. I was born a long way from where I belong and am headed back home. 


Let Us Milk A Cow By The Hand Of Love And Share The Ice Cream.     Ran Smith Dairy

Sunday, February 7, 2021

 IT IS A GOOD THING


It is a good thing to receive an education. But you will not get one from a school. If you doubt this, check with Albert Einstein who educated his school. At an organized school a programmed student, if given a diploma, is told he or she is educated. Nowadays, this misinformation costs a whole lot of money and time which is to be repaid from the student’s career earnings provided by society, the concept driven factory that sells diplomas with free bumper stickers and silly hats, jackets, and hand signals. Do you require more enlightenment or must it come to you from life spent as one more brain wirer. Better to find what you love. First, you must find love. If not, nothing else matters.  If you do find it, 



nothing else matters. Let Us Milk A Cow By The Hand Of Love And Share The Ice Cream.     Ran Smith Dairy


Wednesday, February 3, 2021

 THE GAP BETWEEN TWO WORLDS


There must be freedom enough to be aware authorities 

want to form organizations. In that observation is actual 

observation of now instead of observation from the past 

that leads to “my conclusions”. 


That way, you see what actually is 

without judgment or condemnation. 

Watch it flower and disappear before your eyes. 

You have come home.

Cells of your body change. 

The contents of cells change. 

You become a light unto yourself. 


Time has lost its power. 

You are no longer a pig on a farm awaiting daily slop.