Friday, November 9, 2018


    Mine is a very small, digital boat called a blog which sails on a very big electronic ocean called the World Wide Web. My boat navigates toward very large cyber-constellations called Facebook, Stumble Upon, Twitter and others. Mine is a very tenuous and vulnerable craft which heads out on notions as strong illusions powered by money and profit. These days all of the cyber-constellations are filled with shooting stars and Mega-You-Tube-Astroids used for business purposes. The volume of technology which now includes audio, video and Triple-Tweets swamp small boats like mine.  The single text, "message in a bottle" which my blog puts out one at a time is a relic of the past something which makes me feel like a typographic castaway.
    The reality of the World Wide Web is that it is an actual web of electronic signals carried by Low Earth Orbiting (LEO) satellites which downlink and connect with large networks in various countries around the globe. The LEOs hold  fixed positions over different countries.
    High above the LEOs in the space-time continuum, out in the cosmos are genuine constellations such as Orion, Leo, Capricorn, Sagittarius, and others. Some say the constellations and certain planets are spiritual communities. 
    Many of the folks with whom my little boat travels rely on the genuine constellations to orient themselves for the seasons, gardening tasks, fishing, hunting, hiking and travel in our daily lives on earth. In addition, we rely on the Sun and the Moon, daylight, moon-glow, winds, clouds, and seasons - things which do not exist in the cyber realm.
    My message in a bottle is not a real, physical message in a real, physical bottle. My messages are digital pleas for help, queries, innuendo and encouragement - as the lyrics to a Sting song says: "Only hope can keep me together. Love can mend your life. But, Love can break your heart."(1)

    Why does a person send a message in a bottle out onto a very big and complicated cyber-sea such as the World Wide Web? What difference does one small message make in the vast life of Internet users and the very few numbers of readers of my blog? Would I have more chance of actually delivering a message to someone if I were to put a note into a real bottle, cork it, and toss it into the beach I recently visited in Maine?
    On occasion I get some indication back that someone has read a post. This closes the loop on the cyber communication process. One may have followers for Tweets. So you feel  something of two-way communication slowly grows. The software for the blog tells me that of the 1,000 castaway visitors a month, 500 are new – and 500 return to read some more messages. So, we can take comfort in knowing " are not alone at being alone."(1)
    I'm using a few lyrics from the song which Sting wrote many years ago, "Message In A Bottle". The song has millions of sales/uses. Sting gives us an image of billions of bottles washing up at his location in response to his sending an S.O.S. - "Hundreds of millions of castaways looking for a home." (1)
    It seems like many of us are castaways in our digital age. It's almost as if the LEO net over our head and the gizmos which capture our attention, create in us a deep longing for the truth - for the real - for authentic relationships.

    It is ironic, but not at all surprising that Sting, the man who authored "Message In A Bottle" is new putting new messages in bottles. A few years ago, Sting met and worked with a good friend of mine named Alan York who died not too many months ago. Alan was a master Biodynamic (BD) gardener and viticultualist. Alan and I worked together on the American BD Association Board many years ago.  We swapped stories about growing up in Texas and metaphysics. 
    Alan had been the consultant who helped Sting bring his vineyards into Biodynamic practice. One of the things that one can say with all certainty is that Biodynamic wine or juices deliver a "message in the bottle". Allen devoted his life to sending messages in bottles.
    The message which Biodynamic wine or juices send is one of Truth and Authenticity. The practices seek to unite the forces of place, nature, Sun, Moon, Constellations and the morality of the grower and wine maker. In addition, BD incorporates spiritual practices aimed at supporting the health of the soil and plants - the grape in this case. If done correctly, you can experience a qualitative difference in each taste. Quality, vitality, and health are not bad living messages to take from a bottle.
    So, I am sending this digital "message in a bottle" post to all of us who feel we are castaways adrift on this digital ocean. Join with me in connecting with those who help us reconnect with an authentic life - as above, so below.

(1) "Message In A Bottle"

(c) Copyright 2014, Jean W Yeager
All Rights Reserved
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Wednesday, November 7, 2018


I have been rolling downhill on my old-style, electro-mechanical pinball life. I bounced from bumper-to-bumper, location-to-location, job-to-job, crisis-to-crisis, and person-to-person. Did I really control any of this or did I really only control my desire-flippers at the bottom?
I am now propelled by the gravity of aging and the inertia of my vanities. I am now realizing that I am unable to really alter the linear direction of my descent toward “Game Over” which prior events have orchestrated. Even the speed of my fall is cumulative. My rolling silver steel ball of personality appears out of my control. I watch all that is going on behind the glass game-top and wonder if I have become a “deaf, dumb blind kid” like Tommy.
Can’t I choose anything? Do anything?
Then again, do I really want to choose? Or should I simply let the events choose? That’s the easiest. Less effort, right? Watch my little steel ball go straight down and disappear out of sight. Then I can curse “what they did to me”, those stupid bumpers. Blame someone else for my fate, my lack of opportunities. The lack of wealth of my parents, genetics that gave me an “eecch” brain. Maybe whine about the obviously rigged game of life which is not on the level. Oh sure, there were inclinations, mine on the inner and the inclined game table on the outer. And, after all, I chose this game.
And I was inclined to try to affect the outcome. I shook the table, nudged it – hard (careful not to “tilt”). But, basically, a pinball life is three balls, flashing lights, sounds, points rolling on the board as you stand there somewhat confused, unaware, na├»ve, numb in my heart and alone. Yeah, I flipped my desire flippers and occasionally kept the ball in play.
Choose. Huh? Yeah, right.

Let me brood in my dull anger for a moment, okay?
Do I want to choose? Yes, I do want to choose. And, I realize that if I choose, then I will pay for my choice. I will suffer. I do suffer. Your extra replays don’t come free. But, I’m brooding already, right? I have a few more games racked up on the counter – a few more years before “Game Over.”
     Deprivation because when you choose, you only get one thing – not both. I have to pick one or the other, poverty because I can’t have both (or the many). There will be labor, conflict, looming fear, addiction (to my desiring. Desiring? Hell. Longing!), regret that things will not be harmonious, rejected divinity, failing physical capacities, pissing myself. Maybe denial is easier. Just let me stand here like Tommy – deaf, dumb and blind. But, Tommy could play. Am I a player?
     Suffering. Suffering to be myself. A warrior, a player, chooses to define her/himself from the others. Can I be hostile? Independent? Push back against the inclined table of life? I can be hostile to the amorphous, undefined!
     I long for the One Thing. The One Thing we have in our hearts, our True Self. The others told me that real success was getting my steel ball into the 1,000 Points Hole. Roll your ball into that Hole and score big time, lots of lights, sounds and chatter. Woo-hoo! (“You get a replay!”) And, then the 1,000 Points Hole ejects you, shoots you across the table.
That other thing which warms your heart? That True Love? Where is that? Don’t seek that. There is no choice, they say. Stick with the 1,000 Point Hole and replays. You are what you are, the game is the game, the table is what it is, and that is that. True Self? True Love? Not here. Not in this game. This is a closed system. There is no place to go for that.

I am here to awaken the True Self before I die. Before you die.
“Time, time, time, see what’s become of me...” I am a child of the 60s in my 60s. What time is it? Am I late for a very important date? “When the Moon s in the 7th House...” Is this the dawning? I have I missed it? When was that Millennium? Y2K?
Is it ever too late to transform? If you don’t transform yourself, life will transform you. So, you have to go from the closed system to an open system.
If I am a steel ball, I am iron. Iron is malleable with enough heat. With enough passion I will undergo the agony of change. I will stand between the opposites where I’m normally not inclined to go, and feel the power of resistance. Resistance to my passion cranks up the heat. With enough passion, resistance and friction, I can change. Form a blade. A sword. The One Thing to become, my new self. Someone who does not just roll mindlessly, who can overcome the inertia of the past. A blade does not roll mindlessly. A blade cuts you away from the amorphous which clings.  Change - the one precious thing to do - the act which grows more fierce with each sun rise.
True Self awakens in the sphere of cause. Outside the box. Off the table. Choose to be the gravity, your self-motive. This is how we roll.

Copyright 2015, Jean W. Yeager
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