Awake Man Working: Earthly Dream Fulfilled... All*Ways

i*am a simple carpenter... who decades ago... saw this reality for what it was then and is today... Therefore i*have spent my life working when and if, i*chose... Working for whom, i*choose... Helping those who could not afford the high cost of mainstream construction fulfill their modest dreams... Paying no taxes other than those which create a world, i*choose to support... Having no insurance nor assurance other than the truth i*will suffer and die at the hands of my own actions... It has been a life of my*choice, lacking nothing and filled with purpose, wonderment, joy, love, relationship, adventure, travel, family, home, community, endless curiosity for the natural world and of WHY so many people would enslave themselves to the false comfort and security of a social system that is such an obvious, destructive, deception... doomed to fail...

i*have learned this...

You have blindly, collectively deceived each other... for,

It is the shepherd who leads the lambs to slaughter, while the wolf desires the flock roam healthy, united & free.


The sun rose in my spirit today, as it does each morning, some days are gloomily overcast, others kind of a stormy gamble, a few spin in a foreboding whirlpool drawing life and limb toward the dark central vortex, then every so often there comes a gem, one which oozes with such splendid wonder that my heart is spun into a gambol, filled with courageous willing, a magnified glory of inclusiveness, this was such a day, one to gather cordial thoughts, to feel the generosity of life and give freely of its sensations, to gawk happily upon the outcome, to pursue goals with fearless and triumphant intention, and to stare intently into the fullness of the love presiding over the fragrant substance of all the precious ordinary glimpses of this moving joy of relativity for which my soul is a glutton...


The aging, smoked amber basket sit’s in the quite, still air of a dark, dry corner, silvery gray cob webs embracing it’s delicate dust choked weave, empty now of things and what not's, filled only with the treasured memories of times past, holding the pride and pain of each burden it bore, cradling the love and joy the history of it’s repeated filling and emptying has created, sustained and tucked away in this silent, forgotten memorial, waiting for one true heart with the desire to touch the beauty within the fiber of it’s soul.

The cup is neither half full, nor half empty, it's always being fulfilled...

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