I used to believe that true love and romance could be discovered and fluently facilitated  via web, blog, and online communities.  I don't anymore (and not merely for myself, but in a broader social sense.)

I still do believe that adroit use of web, blog, and online communities can promote romantic thrusts.  But I also believe the failure rate of such becoming lasting and true is much greater than those otherwise arranged. 

Deceit is endemic to the web and all its bloggy-type offsprings.

You know the old saying: "What a wicked web we weave when we first practice to deceive"?

Well, with regards to romance and love at least, I do believe that WWW really stands for World Wicked Web.

My spirit and imagination are soaring once again.  And thus a new journey begins.  It kind of makes me want to instantly reinvent myself.  But too late.  So I'll go just as I am.  And make adjustments along the way.

I have the feeling that I'm traveling the world around though I've actually gone nowhere yet .  Ancient Chinese Taoists called this condition that of being the "unmoved mover" and being "the hub at the center of the wheel".  There are many cosmologies to explain such a phenomenon.  And they are all equally valid.  But not all equally simple.  Shared public knowledge always clamors for the simplest explanation.  Invoking Occam's Razor is what they call it. (But that Razor has been used so much, it certainly must be dull by now!)  Yet in the depths of your soul, you need not submit to such a demand for simplicity if an equally valid but more complex cosmology truly becomes you. 

And so complexity has become me.  And so I soar once again.  And I'm traveling the world precisely as the world travels around.

What greater adventure is there than to encounter the next door to unfolding consciouness and be offered passage hence?

I have been running and writing all winter.  Running and writing,  But not blogging.

I have finished the tale of Rumya, the eternal loving nymph of Dreamland.  And so I am finished with Dreamland.  The book is closed.

What was my thing with Dreamland, running in Dreamland, writing in Dreamland, dreaming of cavorting in Dreamland, you may ask?

Denying Death with every step.   Being the essence of Life and denying Death.

But I have finished my leg of that baton race.

Who will now take the baton from me? 

Take it smoothly like an arrow slipping off a Zen master's bow.