emptycloud.org

The

Unveiling

of

Emptycloud.org

(........peep..........). Baked some killer cranberry pecan scones this morning. Enjoyed some greenhouse time and early spring weather here in Colorado. Read some more of “The Smiling Jesus” and just can’t stop smiling. Now on to working on the web site, as I have been frequently as of late. It is open for wandering in wonder if you like. It is incomplete, as such, and forever after. But it is also quite the Oasis, with much more expansion to come. It is to be experienced as a journey not finished as a destination. It is more of a travel portal than a web location. Come on through and drink up, there is no set path to follow until you create it. Please enjoy the peaceful moments spent and smiles cracked while passing through ----emptycloud.org
Now if anyone else would like to be networked into the emptycloud site anything is possible...or at least that is the way I dream it......this is my present, present of presence. ‘Big love' to Omni Lovers everywhere...............e

Ah, memories

My granddad used to sit out in the back in the evenings smoking a bowl of cherry tobacco and pondering. Many times I seized the opportunity to grab the bowl of food remains, tea and coffee grounds and head out to the worm bed. We would feed them to make sure we would have some bait for the next fishing adventure with in the wee hours. Charles Daly was a natural man, by that I mean sod of the earth. Arising from the Peat bogs of Ireland he learned the meaning of hard work. Growing up in homes of stone and sod and timber he sought adventure in distant lands. Traveling roads of cobble and mud to sailing across seas that set him adrift, he carried leprechauns. The wee folk that knew how to play and trick the big fools had played with him often as a lad. He brought them to America as they sailed within him upon a ship bound for adventure. It's no wonder after many years of struggle that he would settle here content in this garden surrounded by woodlands and marsh. Those leprechauns had seen him through some testing times of social conditions. They still would posses him as he twanged his Irish mouth harp and danced a jig at 93. They inspired his heartfelt poetry and allowed him to clown so that others may laugh. He fished and enjoyed time spent with on the lakes at dawn, with the mists and woodland beings. And at the end of the days work he liked nothing better than to draw on his pipe and return to the land of leprechauns that existed within. I was a lucky wee lad to hear such tales in his garden as his adventures in the old country surfaced decades later. And now as I walk my path still decades beyond I still sense him within sharing those tales, as I am now the playful adventurer.

essence of an emptycloud

Nowhere is where emptycloud lives all the time. Considered exactly vague and theoretically impossible, not a mystical mythological dragon, just an empty possibility. A whim that isn’t anywhere. Neither here nor there nor anywhere in particular, but rather here and there, not in any one place, but all over the place, nowhere precisely. And it is out of nowhere, on the wings of impulse that creativity flies. A dragon expressing light as a breath of intuitive impulsivity aiming precisely at random shadows. The hyperfocused flame of the chaotic mind will scorch the innocent and refresh souls with there lost nature. The dragon breath scours and refreshes the cosmic fabric of space and time. Prepared for the in between while not quite being in the here and now, the intense consciousness of the dragon rests, waiting for a spontaneous moment to do nothing. Wondering if he is as such, he becomes more all with nothing and rejects everything. Accidentally something is forgotten to lead emptycloud back to nowhere, where there is something to remember.

Oh, yes my story… if it happened at all… must have or else I am not.

Once a sagacious dragon, and a dragon sorceress did something somewhere, sometime in not ever. The ripples went everywhere causing nothing to everything. I however being nowhere became myself, the offspring of something. I am nothing in particular, just as such, a question expressed as chaos. The emptycloud of everything, born of the mystical love of nowhere. Thump, out of the blue, born on the wind of wisdom and nurtured by the wild waters of not even so. I challenged everything with my nothing but something drew first breath of nothing and spit emptycloud into everything. Now I am, like it or not, I’m something in everything. A quark of nature, with a quirk for chaos on a quest to find peace while going nowhere.

It’s clear we’ve gone nowhere, if you follow me…

copyright

emptywrite

emptycloud 2006