Hello, Starry Sky...Arching Bridge...Connect Me.

Hello to all of you bright stars in this big big sky!!! My name is Joe.

My purpose here is to flesh out a reality that is entirely imbued with my own fingerprint - one that is void, as much as possible, of "identifying", or of forms that appear to not work. This is my journey, fairly trading my writing for a different material reality, and I intend to dispense with notions of right and wrong paths, and instead, fully integrate with my path, a path as singular as the waves of lines on the end of my finger.

So my intention with this post is an intention that comes not from a place of lack, but of pure abundance, seasoned and spiced deliciously with alignment and discovery. And I'm already your biggest fan.

A fan without whimsical melodrama. Without meaninglessness ushered out upon bated breath. I'll use plenty of delicious hooks, though. Definitely some mindful manipulations. And zero trappings.

Because what is real is free.

I say I need a bridge. Often! But maybe I don't. Maybe we don't build a bridge - I mean, in the sense that maybe no bridge is really created. Maybe...all we're doing is moving material from one place to another place...so that we can cross over. Mine is a bridge of words. Words to meaning. Meaning to smiles.

It's a journey from questioning to gratitude to grace. Sometimes circles. Sometimes spirals. Everything in its time. So why can't mine be the same?

I love rivers. I love the life on mountain rivers, and the peace no less than the fulfillment.

I find satisfaction in the sharing.

“Long ago I knew a man. He reflected something from within me. In a rare sober moment he said to a group of us, ‘Everything you need to know about life, you can learn from a river.’ We all sat in a whitewater raft, four young men and a fallen river god. We were in the middle of a large whitewater rapid and we had driven hard up on a rock, left of the line and out of the way, parked several feet above the steepest drop where we had the best vantage point of the entire scene – every part and virtually every detail. He continued, ‘You’ve been trained to be river guides, and you have been taught the skills necessary to run any river. But I can’t tell it from watching you. There is a difference between river guides and raft guides. River guides read water. Raft guides just know their lines. They guide their one river like they would drive a dirt road. They’re no good on any river other than the one they know.’ The river raged and roared around us, heaving the raft listing on that jagged rock. My head swam with the way it rushed past us on every side. Sometimes it was hard to tell if we were sitting still or moving. ‘You’ve not been taught to be raft guides…a little to the left there…this angle at that rock…this many paddle strokes at that turn. But you have a long way to go before you can guide like river guides. A long way to go before you can understand the skills you’ve been taught. And so we’re here today to learn this thing like a dirt road now, because it’s summer already. The tourists are in full force. And you’re still flailing. One day, maybe a year or two down the line, things will change. The river will look entirely different. The shapes and contours – all the parts – will stand out individually, and the river won’t look like a mass of confusion. You will be reading water. It can take a while to learn to read water, but when it happens,’ he snapped his fingers. ‘It’s like that. You’re different. And if you want to become a really good river guide, you’ll come to the river, every day, eager to learn. We are never done learning, and river guides are humble like that.’ He talked about the river like it was a woman. Maybe a goddess. A teacher. Sometimes a punisher. And then we finished the trip, and he sank back into his bottles, never to be seen again. But in those moments my journey really began. I can’t say that I agree with the notion that the river punishes. It reckons. It is both the life, and the scales that balance the events in life. It is the standing wave…the obstacle…the ride. But it is much more than that, as it is the water constantly moving through the wave as well, making the wave. If I live outside of my integrity, she shows me.”

So I guide. And so, I write. And there is very little difference. Aren't we all here to connect? Words are magic so let us arrange them into bridges. So many bridges!

Thank you, and peace...