Not one structure in my body is the same as it was when I began typing this sentence. Not my intestines, not my right thigh bone (femur). Because it’s literally impossible to go back to the way things exactly were. So why’s it so hard to do things differently?
Your phalanges are the bones of your fingers. The term is derived from Latin, referring to a ‘row of soldiers.’ This row can be construed as either the 3 phalangeal bones of each finger (except for your thumb, which only has 2...that’s partly why it’s shorter), or the row of fingers created by all your phalanges.
Somehow I’m only able to remember two jokes: 1) about Sam Clam & Fred the Lobster (which is well beyond and below the scope of this newsletter), and 2) the above [attributed here], which is a nerdy joke referencing Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, which says that the more precisely a particle’s position is known, the less precisely its momentum is known, and vice versa.
So, here we are at the end of the summer (if you live in the Northern Hemisphere), a time when the crops have bloomed and are en route to harvest. The thing about any good harvest is that the wheat is separated from the chaff, i.e. you keep the good, usable stuff and discard the rest.
In the last newsletter, we talked about electrons, the negatively-charged particles that give and receive light.
But they don’t live alone.
So we continue to explore what it means to be bodies without walls. Meaning, the energy-frequency-field structure you are doesn’t stop at your skin. Kind of like a flame, whose glow appears condensed at the candle’s wick… but then radiates into a halo of light…and thereafter dissipates slowly, without a hard-and-fast end.
Recently, for whatever reason, I’ve been thinking about ‘receiving.’ Like, REALLY receiving.
Sure, I’ve received stuff all my life: mail, food deliveries, birthday presents, compliments, big lessons that come from big ass-kickings, etc. But I’m starting to witness a realm of receiving in which the gift is like a whisper. It is not glaringly obvious at the surface; you have to listen closely to even get that it’s there, let alone a gift.
Be still my beating heart.
Or not. Because if it were still for more than about 5 minutes, you’d be dead. But there are probably times that you wish your heart were more still than it was…like on a roller coaster ride, or when someone provokes your anger, or just before giving a big presentation.
A propos to last month’s newsletter: Listen to the sound of the Milky Way rotating. You know, the galaxy you/me/we are in right now. For the composition, astronomers transformed astronomical data about galactic gases into musical notes. Apparently, our galaxy grooves to upbeat jazz/blues 🙂
If you were to stare at your knee for the next minute, it would probably feel like an hour.
In that same minute, if you were to watch your favorite TV show, you would wonder where the time went and be left wanting more.
In yoga class last week, my teacher said that “the body is not eternal.”
I get what she means: If there is a part of us that enters heaven, it is most likely our soul, spirit, or some derivation thereof. The egoic mind goes goodbye, and the body decomposes in dirt.
It’s as if a quickening occurred. An up-tick in time that was like a blink in which November turned into December. And so we find ourselves moments before a new year.
While engulfed in flames.
Unless you spent last week in a cave, you are likely aware that the US experienced a total solar eclipse, the first one visible in the contiguous US since 1979.
In last month’s newsletter, we discussed how energy means different things to different people. Well, the same goes for light. But instead of reviewing the myriad ways in which you hear the word “light”—referencing everything from ceiling fixtures to the divinity within—I just want to skip to the part where you ARE light.
As you’ve likely noticed, I talk a lot about energy. How we are it, have it, and live in a world of it. All in an attempt to take science out of the books and into our lives so we can walk our talks.