shift happens.

explore. expand. be.

http://www.global-mindshift.org

My Third Eye Goes Pop!

So, after my last email, I went to bed. What followed was an extremely intense night of dreaming and puzzling out what the next move on my vague path should be. It was one of those nights where you have hinted recollection of tossing & turning and when you do wake up, you feel a sinking feeling in your gut, you’re exhausted.

The next morning when I woke up, I found my neck pendant, an ametrine crystal, had broken in half.

Huh.

I'm not a sonambulist, and I am pretty sure I have corrected Fugee’s habit of arc welding in his sleep. So here I am with a shattered crystal, a crystal that is as strong as quartz. You can’t break it with a hammer, it scratches glass.

So, what is ametrine? It’s a clear golden purple colored gemstone where amethyst meets citrine and purportedly holds properties that sooth and calm emotions, and help one stay rational under pressure.

Pressure, me?

Amethyst (purple) helps you visualize and the Citrine (gold) helps to manifest your vision into the physical. It is the crystal of the 3rd eye and solar plexus.

Yeah, I’d been under stress as transition settled in for a stay, but who hasn’t had similar periods? What caused the break? I wasn’t wearing anything hard that I could have hit it on. I wondered if it was my body heat somehow affecting a flaw in the crystal.

Now I knew that a broken mala held great meaning. Could this mean something after such an intense night of dreamtime problem solving? As you know, I am a man who can find meaning in the pealing of a banana. I decided to reach out.

I emailed the folks at Crystal Way, where I bought the crystal. I didn’t want replacement, I wanted their take on what it might mean. Here is their response:
-----Original Message-----
Hi Craig,

I'm not sure that the breaking of the ametrine has a meaning other than what you choose to give it.

Since ametrine is a stone that contains properties of higher psychic awareness and spiritual enlightenment, perhaps your energies were vibrating rather high at some point and the ametrine couldn't take on any more energy, causing it to crack, especially if you wore it in your sleep, when we tend to be more open to our spiritual lessons. You might consider removing it off before retiring for the night!
Best wishes,

Gina Rabbin
Crystal Way
2335 Market Street
San Francisco, CA 94114
www.crystalway.com

Double plus huh.

I am delighted to report the EXTRAORDINARY customer service of Crystal Way, as they are replacing it for free! I contacted them for insight, not refund or replacement, and they far exceeded my expectations. Great karma on them! And I highly recommend you visit them in person or online. Tell ‘em Hermes sent you.

So what am I to gather from this? In my creepy New Age mindset, I find auspiciousness, released past karma, a potential come to fruit. High auspiciousness, indeed!

In looking at life, it’s what you make it. Is something a heartache or a growth opportunity? A sadness or a chance to grow even more beautiful? Stress-inducing uncertainty or unlimited, wondrous potential?

I choose it as a wonderful omen, a tangible sign of a wonderful unfolding life.

Sign me,

Hermes Alchemist
Banana Pealing Meaning Finder

my best friend.

You're Invited!

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


~ Rumi ~


(The Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)

take a trip and don 't leave your seat.

http://webzone.k3.mah.se/kit01051/flashback.html

aya meets cyber meets hoffman meets animation.

Out Of The Mouths Of Maudes

Maude: "Murdered?! Oh no, I've just been in the country for a week."

Bart: [to Flanders] "But I distinctly heard you say that Maude was with God."

Maude: "Oh, that's right. I was at Bible Camp. I was learning how to be more judgemental."


Thus Spake Groening. Amen.

We Should Talk about This Problem .

"There is a beautiful creature
Living in a hole you have dug.

So at night
I set fruit and grains
And little pots of wine and milk
Beside your soft earthen Mounds

And I often sing.

But still, my dear,
You do not come out.

I have fallen in love with Someone
Who hides inside you.

We should talk about this problem--

Otherwise,
I will never leave you alone."
~Hafiz

A Connecticut Yankee in, Well, Connecticut.

“I’m gonna jump!!”

Inching along the edge of a worn out life, I close my eyes and try to make sense of my next move.

“Jump!! Jump!!! Jump!!!”

Carolyn Myss, Tony Robbins and a Nike® shoe rep chant in unison. Pema Chodron executes a flawless Flying C and lands a perfect Chinese split, her nun pompoms fluttering. Quite a feat in maroon robes.

“Do it NOW!!” Eckhart Tolle lilts in his Stephen Hawkings lullaby voice.

“All you got to do is jump over the moon!”

Maureen lows and moos and disappears in a puff of smoke as she’s paid her Rent, and is a committed Wicked witch now.

So I jumped. Into…

Complete groundlessness.

As self-doubt and second-guessing breathe down the back of my neck and kiss sweet whispers of “What the hell have you done?” into my ears, I’ve never felt less sure of my decision to leap.

Fortunas Audentes Juvat. Fortune favors the bold, or so it’s said. And I’m no stranger to bold decisions. Quitting an ‘important’ job with healthcare at a time I was fairly immune suppressed and on two grand a month in meds, to travel through India, Nepal, Tibet and South East Asia for over a year. Continuing to travel when I developed malaria and pneumonia on the eve Millennium. Night buses in India. A street corner fly encrusted turd samosa. Traveling to Africa with an aggressive case of MRSA to climb Kilimanjaro and sit with some gorillas.

Any of these choices might have seemed like carelessness, pushing the envelope to the point of bursting, or, some have even thought, a bit suicidal in mindset. Poppycock, I say! (We all say poppycock far too infrequently.)

I trusted in my inner barometer, trusted in The Path, and in the universe’s unconditional ability to wrap me up in protective ball of loving care.

I continue to test my decisions and hold up the measuring rod of, “Which decision scares the bejeebers out of me? Do it!”

I love Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” I like to add, “and that which doesn’t kill you gives you a better sense of humor and a broadened sense of compassion.”

I think at the end of the day, we all sit in on a Defending Your Life People’s Court, judged by how we lived our lives, made our decisions. Was fear the primary decision factor in how we lived? Did we make informed, bold, fearless choices?

So here I sit in rural, antique, Lyme’s Disease speckled Connecticut, and Lindsey Buckingham “Never going back again” is running like some endless loop through my noggin.

I’ve never felt less sure of my choices. But I will trust that The Path will materialize in the abyss to lead me on to my next adventure. Or at least will be a diverting adventure on my date with fate.

I’d like to posit this to you—how have you found reassurance in complete groundlessness? In situations where your Road Less Traveled is a screeching descent into a Where The Hell Am I?

In Life As Alchemy, we are charged with taking the Lead in our lives and transmuting it to Gold. I’ve had a much easier time in the past seeing a course of action.

Hey, I know it’s early—only been here a week, but it’s a downpoury Connecticut day and right about now, I’m really noticing the complete directionlessness of a groundless situation. Where I’d normally see limitless opportunity, I just see animated neon question marks. (Perhaps I should lay off the Psilicybin Crispies for breakfast…)

I look forward to seeing it unfold.

Plummettingly Yours,
Namaste.
Craig
Hermes Alchemist

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

arrived in CT at 2pm. No more driving, at least for a while. It was
great. Fugee was a great traveling companion, and as many of you
noted, quite a photographer.

What a beautiful country we live in--and so sparsely populated!

An email recap tomorrow, then I will leave you alone--no more
extraneous, crap-filled emails.

Well, at least until the next extraneous, crap-filled one.

You, my friends and family, rock. You matter to me.

Namaste/love
Craig
__________________________________________
craig hermes
http://www.hermesbrainbelch.blogspot.com
"As above, so below; as below, so above." - Hermes Trismegistus

Cleveland Rocks!

...as you can see from this picture of me driving at 85 miles an hour...

Energy drinks hold now power for me any more....

NEVER drink VonDutch carb free Energy drink-- tastes like a cross
between pineapple and carbonated rank armpit...

Don't you wish you could enjoy a pound of cheese curds like Fugee and
me? Had to eat a half a watermelon just to keep the T-time (remember
biology?) normal...

That's the brief check in fro Ohio-- off to PA...

so close.


so, so far....



craigggggggg
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
__________________________________________
craig hermes
http://www.hermesbrainbelch.blogspot.com
"As above, so below; as below, so above." - Hermes Trismegistus

Badlands = Good.

Badlands. So beautiful. I felt a bit strange driving a box truck
through a national park, but, hey, everyone should bring all their
furniture and underpants to see beautiful things.

Eating a 5,000 calorie breakfast, using internet, visiting Sioux Falls
park then off to Omaha or Davenport... and thinking of you.

Peace
Craig
__________________________________________
craig hermes
http://www.hermesbrainbelch.blogspot.com
"As above, so below; as below, so above." - Hermes Trismegistus

America. Fat & Beautiful.

Day Six, Keystone, South Dakota and for some God-Forsaken
Reason, 5:30 AM.

"Wake up, child! Pay attention..." ~Kate Bush, Waking the Witch

I guess I'm an early riser. Unthinkable. To wake up, bright, alert,
chuckling and as my LifeCycle cohorts can attest, unnaturally cheery
at 5 AM (or earlier!) is a gift I have often forgot that I possess.

At the more bogged down points in my life, I often haven't wanted to
wake up at all, locked in that dance of hitting the snooze bar, sighing
deeply, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, and trying SO HARD to reclaim
JUST EIGHT MORE MINUTES of dreamy bliss, eight more minutes free
from the responsibilities of getting out of bed and creating my destiny.

So why not get up and get to it? You can't post-pone the Now, as
Eckhart Tolle would say, as it's all we ever truly have, the moment
where greatness, potential and enlightenment/awakeness intersect
and occur; those things never occur in the past or in the future, but
always in the Now. Now is now, not eight fretful, sleep-grasping
minutes from now. Be here, be now, be alert, that is our challenge.

I've come to find the days where I hit the snooze bar are the days I
am going to be the least productive or joyful. Screw the snooze bar,
plant the feet on the floor, smile and rub the eye snot from your
eyes—there's haddock oatmeal to be eaten! (A veiled LifeCycle
reference, which will only make sense to only one person reading this.
I LOVES me some Cryptic...For you, dearest Smookazoo.)

So I decided to grasp the Now by the horns and write an update from
the road. Here we go.

As my time in San Francisco steamrollered to an end, I found an
increasing sense of questioning occurring surrounding my choice to
dramatically alter my lifepath and leave a spot that I had called home
for almost twenty years.

Had I made the right choice? Should I have stuck it out just a little
longer? What was I moving to? The only thing I could be certain of
was the completely uncertain outcome of my actions. And that can be
said for each of us at any given moment in our lives.

As this sense of dread that I'd made some horrible choice of folly
based on the clouded thinking of the heart grew, I found myself feeling
more stressed, less sure, shorter tempered and confused.

At this point, my beautiful friends stepped in and mirrored back that
annoying positivity that I so usually possess. "It'll be fine! You'll be
fine! You always are!" Sure, I was grateful for their faith, but also true
was a certain desire to sock them in the gut.

Again, if we are to embrace the Now and forget past or unmanifested
future, how does one know that "fine" is the adjective the Big Guy
selected for you that day?

Sometimes things go horribly amiss. Loss, illness, disappointment,
sorrow, are these "fine"? Absolutely. They are merely the Messengers
for the Message. As Pema Chodron would say, it's the quality of using
poison as medicine. Or to quote Tolle again, mirroring a view I have
long held, it is the alchemy of transmuting pain into awakeness or
enlightenment.

So, no job, no money, no leads, very short access to insurance, the
desire not to be a burden to family, the moving away from one's usual
circle of support, it all compresses into a hefty sword of Damocles
directly centered over my unusually large Charlie Brown shaped head.

I have to say, one of the best laughs I've had recently was in response
to my friend Jennifer's reaction to my choice to move. Paraphrasing
here, "Move to New York! It will be wonderful, full of opportunity and
love—or, it could be a Soul-crushing descent into despair, but hey, at
least it's a change!"

Death is necessary for rebirth. Letting go for truly grasping. I need to
remember the humor in the choice and in life, quite often. Life says,
"Lighten up! I'll happen, despite your best laid plans!"

"That concludes or reading from the Occluded Book of Craig. Let us
pray..."

So back to the travelogue.

I spent three days in Reno, NV at my pal David's. I had only intended
to be there a night, but I hadn't seen David in almost a year and
wasn't sure when the next time would be. What's the hurry? To rush
to Connecticut so I can unload a truck solo and sit in an empty house?
My impeccable timing has targeted a Connecticut arrival when Scott &
Jane are in San Diego. So, as long as I am keeping expense conscious,
what's the hurry?

This new credo firmly in mind, I decided to take a day or two detour to
visit the only three states I haven't been to. I am now at Mount
Rushmore after a full two days of driving through Wyoming, beautiful
Wyoming. The Sioux chose well. In looking around, I was struck by
the similarities to Africa—the kopjes and ungulates –okay—too high
fallutin'—the rocks and antelope. Kind of like the Serengeti except we
killed all our animals.

I just looked at the clock and realize I need to cut this short—I have a
700-mile drive today.

Impressions and fragments instead of narrative.

Reno. A Less Horrible Las Vegas. Now THERE'S a slogan! I'll give you
that one, Reno Chamber of Commerce. It's actually pretty in spots and
isn't as infernally hot. I'd go back. Not so, Vegas, a city which made
my lips chap in just 15 minutes waiting outside Caesar's Palace for
Vanessa Williams. From the television, My good friend, Vanessa
Williams... (a nod to my newest love, Little Britian...)

Salt Lake/salt flats. Eerie, beautiful. Sold out, retail convention. Didn't
stop, on to Wyoming.

Laramie, Wyoming. Butch Cassidy & Sundance Kid. Matthew
Sheppard. Applebee's with Internet.

Casper, Wyoming. No hotels and the Sturgis motorcycle rally
everywhere I go. Crappy food which makes Denny's seem gourmet.

Devil's Tower. Close Encounters, America's first national park
celebrating its centennial.

South Dakota. Saw antelope, deer, pronghorn, elk, even two wolves!
Amazing how much one looked like Nomad. Wish I could have focused
my camera faster...

Keystone, SD. Rushmore-beautiful. Big, fat Americans dressed in red
white & blue, eating big, fat, red white & blue ice cream cones. All that
was missing were bald eagles wearing tri corner hats, playing fifes.

Crazy Horse Mountain—very cool. Sioux nation—amazing. Bear
Country (fun watching Fugee looking at a bear, trembling—was he
scared, did he want to hump it or play with it?).

Today, off to Badlands, a very good park, not Badlands, a very bad
San Francisco bar. Then the western equivalent to Pedro's South of
the Border. Wall's Drug store. Free ice and signs for 500 miles.
Mmmmmm. Kitchy kitchy koo.

Aiming for Omaha or Lincoln tonight, then either Davenport of Chicago
tomorrow. A nice traipse through the tornado belt.

As I bring this overlong email to its end, I head to the only wireless
connection in Keystone. Strange that while traveling in remote Nepal,
Laos, India, Uganda and Tibet, internet access was far more accessible
and cheaper. Thank you, free enterprise. God bless America and pass
me some fiber free, lard soaked pie. Amen.

Oh, here's a travel tip. Feeling anxious in the west? Dress like you're
from Connecticut and travel with a Weimaraner. You're everyone's
best new friend.

Well, my friends and family, be well, be here, be Now.

Until the next.

Namaste/love
Craig
__________________________________________
craig hermes
http://www.hermesbrainbelch.blogspot.com
"As above, so below; as below, so above." - Hermes Trismegistus

Howdy, pahdah, From Laramie, Wyoming

Just a quick hello taking advantage of free internet at Applebee's. Trip's going well--I'm taking a detour to visit the only three states I haven't hit yet: Nebraska, Iowa and South Dakota.

Fugee is a good traveler, though we often disagree on heat level and music as evidenced here by his changing the thermostat..

difficult hound.

peace.
Craig

Peace Amidst Chaos.

“I AM ANTI-GANESH.....”
bah dah dah dah dah, dah dah dah dah dah dah dah, dah dah dahhhh
(please nod your heads to the tune of ‘Iron Man’ by Black Sabbath)


Hooo-weeeeeh. I’m pooped. What a week, what week, what week. Time for a beer
and an email.

There are few things more stressful than a move. I remember thinking back when I
moved into my current apartment, “Dear Lord, let me die in this place. Don’t make
me move again!”

I was only half kidding. I didn’t want to have to face the choices, the memories, the
dust and the chaos of another life upheaval. I thought, “Hmmm. A brushfire in just
my room would be kind of nice. No collateral damage, and nothing to pack or
transport. A win-win!”

I think I secretly have desires to be a renunciate. Biggest decision, “Wonder which
sackcloth I should wear today?”

My last move I didn’t prepare until the day before. By the grace of dear, patient,
allergic and enthusiastic friends, I was able to move in just a few hours. Alex,
Phoebe, Renata, Mike, Jane, Maurino, Leanne and David all gave up a good portion
of their weekend to help Patrick and me move up the hill.

This time I pledged to make it different. Always being a single-draft-before-the-day
it’s-due kind of writer, I have always made friends with the intensity of a deadline
and the chaos of order amidst chaos.

With any move, you have the experience of revisiting all the stages of your lives, the
joys, the tragedies, the light, the dark. As I was walking through the strata of debris
in my apartment, it looked like my life had been vomited up on the floor.

‘Welcome. Tour group forms here... “On your left, the Actor Model Epoch. Passing
through this, we enter Early Entertainment Mogul Era, replaced by the HIV positive
Soul Searching World Traveler Stage, the thrice unemployed depressive Epoch, the
Inspired AIDS and Cancer Fighter Era, the Crazy Overactive Triathlete Wannabe
Period, and of course, the Retail Era. Please stay together folks.”’

Who were all these people? Was there any common thread? Oh, that’s right.
They’re all me.

This move, being one of my most major in twenty years, I made a pact with myself
to not move things that I didn’t need to move.

This means opening boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Laughing at Eighties hair.
Sneezing at 20 year-old dust. Wondering about an empty champagne bottle.
Experiencing devastating sadness upon reading my mom’s words about becoming
terminal. Each speaks to a time, an emotion, a love, a loss. It’s not easy reliving 44
years in four days.

As my spiritual self has bloomed amidst adversity, as I have waltzed with
devastating loss and numerous personal challenges, the “things” have become less
and less important. Or at least I have repeatedly told myself this. I think I mainly
believe it.

Had a couple of great chances to test this theorem today.

Right about now, you may be thinking, “All well and good, Craig... what the hell’s the
email title mean?” Here is my feeble explanation.

As you may or may not know, Ganesh has become one of my favorite archetypal
characters. He’s inspired a tattoo, and holds court in great numbers in my sacred
space. The elephant headed son of Shiva is the God of knowledge and the remover
of obstacles. He is worshipped, or at least remembered, in the beginning of any
venture for blessings and auspiciousness.

When I first started my travels into the developing nations and the developing,
deconstructing Self, I was given a Ganesh to help me overcome my obstacles.

Being true to my Hermes self, I’ve needed the talents of Ganesh more than a few
times. I wouldn’t be surprised if He changed his number and didn’t tell me. I don’t
blame him. I’ve kept him hopping.

You see, I like to bring obstacles into every situation just to make them more
Hermeslike, more challenging, more chaotic, more of a chance to develop humor,
patience and a flexible ability to roll with the punches.

Not really. My obstacles just seem to appear as a wry way of testing my resolve and
belief in the “just things” attitude.

If karma is to be believed, I must have been a real bastard in my former lives. I
apologize for any beheadings, smitings, name calling, pig tail pullings or general
rapscallionisms I may have beset upon your earlier incarnations.

So, a major life change, little-to-no-money, the dreaded of feeling of cutting the
safety net, leaping into the void, trusting that the trapeze bar will appear, and
feeling like you may be experiencing the moment where the coyote hangs in the air,
toes twinkling, waiting for the thousand stories fall into a canyon.

“Beep beep.” ~The Road Runner

Dust clouds forms and I walk away all accordion-like.

“How can I make the move more fun, I thought? Hey! Let’s get shingles! That’ll be
a hoot!” Cut to last week and a rash that went from my elbow to waist, feeling like a
cross between fire ants and being tickled with a feather.

Pshaw. Is that all you have for me? I can take that. Hah. What next?

I helped my pal Phoebe move five days ago. As I was walking down a flight of six
steps carrying a 50 pound box, I realized there was actually a seventh step as I
made the long, slow heavy step into a sprained ankle.

Bring it on, can’t bring me down! I’ve got Ganesh removing my obstacles!

Flash forward to this week. Actually, to today. As I and my friend Maurino were
doing the last few tasks of my move, we went up to Marin to pick up the items I had
in storage. I had been paying 60 bucks a month for almost four years so that I could
keep my family heirlooms and various life debris safe and sound.

I was a bit vague on how much I had in there. I just remembered David, my brother
Scott and I jamming things into a four by four space and filling it to the ceiling.
Among the favorite items, a tiger maple dining room table from the late 1700’s, one
that had survived a family fire in the early 1900s. Also there, family paintings, an
oriental rug, some family tchotchke type stuff and perhaps the most valuable, my
vinyl/lp collection.

I was worried that not everything would fit in the truck. I didn’t really need to
worry.

I opened up my storage space, and right off the bat I thought, “Sure are a lot of
spiders. Huh. I thought I filled this to the ceiling. Why’s it only three quarters full?”

Then I looked down.

The Amityville Horror seemed cozy with their quaint fly situation. Ever seen a
quarter million moth larvae? Or water damage that makes boxes, carpets and
records dissolve?

Baffling.

I told the manager of the Storage facility that we had a problem. He came and
looked and reacted like he had been punched in the stomach. “Oh my God. This has
never happened. I so, so sorry...” He snapped polariods and apologies, and I
thanked him for his help.

I did say, “You know, you’re lucky it was me this happened to. I could see someone
going ballistic.”

He smiled wanly and said, “I would go ballistic. This is your history. You cannot
replace that.”

Yeah, I guess. But I have my memory. And if you take that, will I remember to
care?

So what did I lose? The table was cracked in half, rotten and warped. The oriental
rug, probably 150 years old, had turned into gel, then crust. My albums, all glued
together. The albums were good ones, some rarities I’d paid $200 for back in 1979.
Probably $5 grand worth of plastic for recycling.

And you know what? I REALLY believe, “hey, it’s just stuff.” As I pried my table
loose from the muck and floor, I thought of the folks who’d lost their entire lives’
belongings in Katrina. And their loved ones.

I have nothing to gripe about. Records and a table? A lovely lesson in
impermanence. I appreciated them when I had them and I will always remember
them. (And I am so thankful I gave Scott & Jane the majority of my stuff to use in
their house. Things are to be used, loved, seen and held, NOT stored away, out of
site, held onto for the sake of being held onto. Nothing’s that precious.)

Okay, so I’m really getting a grip on believing the “Just Things”ism.

So we headed back into the city to load up the truck with what would fit from my
apartment.

My friend Maurino is a master mover, with a keen Tetris eye when it comes to
packing. He made my move possible. Thank you, Maurino.

As I was bringing a box out to the truck I bumped a mirror that was leaning against
my desk. Yup. A mirror. Victorian, mahogoney.

Funny thing. I have a tattoo that says ‘One Hundred Percent Irony Free’. In an
ironic twist of fate, I had just been discussing that same mirror with my friend Jane
just last night, saying, “It’s so cool that four or five generations of my ancestors
have looked into this mirror and seen themselves. I LOVE it.”

And I did. And now it has shown its last Goward/Tewksbury/Hermes reflection and
has gone to rest. Sad about the loss, but, hey, I’m still believing in the “Just
Things!”

So, you may be thinking your creepy, New Age-y, crystal toting, incense burning,
Ganesh loving, friend/relative is freaked about breaking a mirror before a new
venture. Absolutely not. That would be superstitious. Pshaw, deux.

So where has this brought us?

I am excited to embark on a new journey, with a slightly lighter load, a greatly
deepened appreciation for what is really important, and an armpit and ankle that are
returning to normal armpit-and-ankleocity.

The melancholy optimist treads the bittersweet line of good byes and hellos, so
thankful for the entire journey, all the lessons about things that matter.

Thank you, San Diego, for introducing California to me and making me realize I
wanted to spend almost two decades here. Thank you, Los Angeles, for more fun
than any single person should have and still be able to call it work. And thank you,
San Francisco, for my spiritual hunger, my chance to be involved in work which
bettered our world. And thank you, all my dear, dear friends and family who have
daily demonstrated your love for me. It is most appreciated and I hope you know
how you matter to me.

(How could you not? I never shut up on this infernal computing future machine...)

Thank you.

Love/Namaste
Craig.

PS. Fu and I will be in a truck from Tuesday til the following Tuesday, more or less.
Gimme a call and say hi! I bought a Bluetooth Lt. Uhuru earpiece so I can talk to
you and not drive off the road. What could be more fun than an Iowa
hello, really.