He who would finish is the winner.  We all finish.  We are all first and last.  It is only how we choose that is the contrast.  For, we all finish and we are all both first and last.

The thought: How can it be fair to have he/she having all that negative power?  How can they be so mean?  How can that be fair?  How is it that they cannot see that I am working as hard as I can to do their bidding?  The answer to how is yes.  There is the answer.  Yes.

How perfect is that thinking?  How perfect is that thought?  The answer to how is yes.  The answer to how is yes.

When big and small unite there is the unified field.

The funny thing about beginning a campaign with rhetoric that is about the end of the universe… after a time it becomes self fulfilling.  When we do good, it feels good.  When we gather and do good together, it feels good.  Then we try to institutionalize that good feeling.  Not the doing good; the feeling good.  We forget, like childbirth, the pain of committing to creation.  So, we just want to feel good.  If we begin with a vision.  The vision gets us through the hard stuff.  It works the same for good or for ill.  That is the challenge.  it works the same for good or for ill.

There is just that little breeze.  The breeze of change.  When we step back and make room for that little breeze of change.  When the door is suddenly open, the sail suddenly raised... It is a good thing.  That little breeze.  A wind in the door.

When 'we' use something that would not be appropriate in our own house or at our own table... then we have become the terrorists.  The lizard brain.  The ... re-actor.  You should not have... What is that set of words saying?  Just as when a friend, from her perspective says... oh come on... that is easy.  In a moment when even breathing is not easy.  In a moment when even breathing is not easy.  And then, the characterization of ... you ran away.  You failed me.  You did not do that which was my expectation.  That is the moment.  The layered, reactive moment.  It calls out in the cry of a babe ... wishing for arms of care.  The moment of ... failed moment.  The rejection moment.  The moment of failure.  Later, on the other side, breathing continues; or not.  And the sun comes up, the oceans of wind roll over the earth.  Reflection in a time, perhaps as this reflection, much later, a decade later.  The warm moment from that time.  Being fed on an early morning, sitting in a stair well and letting the meat juices roll down my neck.  So good.  That taste of food.  Food for the soul.  In all of the failures that were healed in that morsel of food.  A gift from creation.  A gift from God.  In this moment, another healing.  The healing of awareness to the sense of words as the lash of the cat.  The lash of 'should' or 'should not' the lash of 'do' or 'don't' ... each in context, the expectant lash from the expectant expectation.  The 'we' or 'us' in the dance of expectational relationship.  The changing moment of link to lash or lash to link; for the shift, the healing, the change, it can go both ways in the blink of an eye.

To life, to life ....

Rising song line. Quiet and calm the ocean of air, the ocean of wind. The morning dawn, it brings a new sense, a new feel and new... rising song line. How, with only so many lines, only so many notes, only so many combinations of rhythm... how oh how can the rising song line be different every dawn? And the answer is yes... Just yes and in that rising song line, the new texture of this dawn... called to the gathered throng... the rising song line, harmony, from different voices such harmony indeed. That is this day's rising song line. To life.

The dawn comes on this farm and all the farms that lay around us... the patchwork of this and that... this ground and that ground. To each ... the same dawn. To each and all comes the same breaking light. Here in the quiet of the calm ocean of wind. Here in the quiet and still air. The dawn comes to each and all. Linked, different, connected, separate... both at the same time. The air, the sun, the soil, the water... all linked and yet grown in different moment. The dawn comes.

Thinking some more on this conversation that is taking place from the position of different mountaintops. The shouted proclamations ... as calls to prayer from minarets...

Each call, from a separate, differentiated, tall place, above the chaos... rigid in form and verse.

That one slamming into the one from this mountain or that mountain. The problem, of course, is that it is not mountains separated by distant but mountains declared in the same house or at the same dinner table... mountains, abutting each other in the same small room.... from the same small screen. The declaiming, the gesticulating, the table pounding... all in a space where there is then little room for a quiet conversation... it is the conversation of the yelling. 

The rigid calling and counter calling. All different with little linkage except to compete in volume, bluster and to fan the flame.

In that is the system of leadership, follower-ship and even a place to lay down to rest? What an interesting conversation this is.

To have an argument in the pursuit of agreement... where the parts that are being argued begin with some agreement. When we begin to agree to disagree... the sky is blue... no it is gray. The air has a 'crisp' feel.... no it is just cold ...

When we begin in rigid position... 

When all is chaos...

Between these two is a third way. That flow of... that connected flow... linked, integrated, differentiated... that harmony of the dance ... between the rigid banks and the chaos of the elements... all the different elements. It ceases to be an argument of agreed disagreement and a harmony of a rising stream... babbling and singing in the rising song line.

What joy in that living. To Life!

My friend Bill passed yesterday morning. The rush of memory and thanks for the richness of his life was like a crashing wave on the beach. The sadness I feel for his passing is bittersweet.

Bill would grumble. He would bark. And in his pride he could be a bit rigid. And he was my friend. That is the part that made him interesting. His hugs could stop the train of grief or sadness still. His smile was like the dawn breaking.

That is the part that was overwhelming when I learned of his passing. He wasn't out much this past bit of time. I hadn't seen him in a while. The friendship that we shared was in passing events. In a salute to the flag. In a memorial service. In a song shared. In a wave as we passed on the street.

My friend Bill passed yesterday morning. His was a life that made my own richer. And for that passing and the richness shared I hold him up. I hold up his family. Those who held his hand and sat with him. Those who made a place for him in lives, rich and caring. In his passing, I remember his smile, the pat of his hand, the straight bearing and his salute. In his passing is rest. Rest well my friend, your life was a gift in my own.

The scene: The dinner table. A guest is there. The family all around. Each element, each player, each plate; perfect in setting. Then the movie lines riff starts. The work of the day is brought out. The push between the teens pushes. The need of the almost adult to 'manage' the younger at the table... it erupts. The table, in all that living seems to erupt. Some good. Some ... 

The scene: Now scattered. The players in various states of waking. It is the morning after and the play of the evening before... it is long over. Now the movement of a morning rush to ... off to... and also and also and also and even one more ... off too.

The scene: The page is complete, the dishes done. The water left for the dog and the coffee, ah the coffee now all ready for the first cup of the morning.

Rush and rushing. The voices of waking. The light of breaking dawn. Traffic on the road. The ocean of the wind kissing the house in puffs, with waves, and the falling back as there is only a push then the pull back of ocean breaking on the beach of the earth.

This pulse of living, it is a gift. This pulse of home, it is a gift. This pulse of, every moment new, it is a wonder. How could such grace and gift be? It is a gift, received in gratitude. Lives in grace. Overwhelming that sense of this gift. Overwhelming in the magnitude of this grace.

The scene: A quiet house ... waking in the racing dawn. And a moment of bowed head in thanks. What wonder it does call forth.

Waking to the rising song line. To some, it is 'bring it' to some it is 'harmony in' to some it is to hum and sway and to some ... it is just to be raised up in the rising song line. That moment of just being raised up. To find that harmony, to catch the beat, to... rising song line. And now we sing. Now we dance. Now we raise voice, drum and lyre... in quiet song, singing with, to and for the rising song line. All voices, from every corner, the rising song line... In gratitude, that song rises and gathers ... rising and gathering, there is the song line.

Woke to a little voice in my head ... it was talking about what I am not. So I had to take a walk to listen to the ranch. The sea of the wind speaking, the cover crop rustling from the pulse of the sea of wind. I had to take a walk and listen to the trees pushed back and forth in that sea of wind. It needed some remembering to remember that place, rooted in soil, rooted in home, rooted in family, generations of family, to remember that that little voice in my head, while a voice, is not the 'what I am.'

Just like this thinking. So, in the waking of the family, one at a time, the making of the coffee, the checking of the little house garden, the checking of the tank water, the ... the little rhythms of a morning on the ranch... it is a reminder of the 'I am' that is.

When a different voice needs to chime in... there is that time for a walk, for the remembering, for the home and care that is each breath. In that moment, the 'I am' is clear, here and home. It is that settled moment of this moment. This remembering, so easily obscured in the 'you are' of that gremlin voice.

In a passing of a friend, the now changed world for his presence and passing, the 'I am' is also changed. For the celebration of our shared moments ... the thinking on the moments shared in our, fast passed, moments shared. That is a gift and my life, the lives of those also touched by our shared experience, gifted also. The 'nature boy' is remembered. The laughter of the 'dancing boy' remembered also.

Woke to a hug and chat with the little voice in my head. No need to ignore, numb or snub. Just offer a hand and the little voice falls silent in the awe of the rush of the morning, the rustling of the cover, the sea of wind caressing the face of the earth and all that lives upon the surface. This is a moment to be. In this treasure, this gift, this perfect breath... that is home it is. And in it is all gratitude, love and care. All.

Preparing for a conversation. The position of the speaker... if one looks to the class form is ... daunting. One 'expert' in... Delighting in forms and invitation to come and share. The delight in sharing a set of knowledge and in that sharing, finding room for transaction. Finding a place where, a brilliant mind can see a point of value to transact some level of money for some value added. Be it fine food, fine scenes, fine method, fine... whatever it may be, that this transaction be at a scale that allows the delight and desire of the two parties to transact their business in peace and harmony. That they may find enjoyment and fun in that sharing and that each may come away better for the bargain. No expert needed. Just willing partners in the trade. Willing in ways that are in scale with the two ... there is a fine beginning for the bargain. A fine beginning indeed.

So, no longer looking to 'expert' but as 'willing partners' now there is a conversation. A conversation indeed.

The coffee pot just beeped to say, "I'm ready."

The dog woke me saying, "I'm ready."

The dawn breaking rises with, "I'm ready."

And too, "I'm ready;" sitting here, tapping to the universe in musing thought. Ready in that place of just letting some jumble that runs around the mind and coalesces here in form of words, sentences, even paragraphs...

There is a running conversation about wasted emotion. That sense of a specific emotion being a waste. A specific feeling being a waste. In that conversation, the mistake is to apply the emotion in expectation of 'other.' To own it personally and to hold it as friend. The application to another ... now that is perhaps the waste. The application of an expectant 'should' through a feeling. "I feel like you should..." 

I need so you should. You should. ... the expectant from outside that withers the inside. The shot from afar about the expectation of that place from afar with no ownership from here.

And of course, the mistake of engaging that expectation of another and being the voice of that expectation. To be caught between the two and failing both. The complete collapse of both sides of the expectation. What then?

Luckily, the coffee pot has beeped again, "I am ready."

So, off to pour. Then to practice this tap some more. In gratitude and peace, joy and love, with laughter and tears, mourning and dancing. The rich moment in all moments, this rich moment, shared so that all who are a part of the conversation can also ready of the great joy in sharing, tapping and knowing that, "I am ready" is across the board in the community that is. In welcome thanks. In welcome thanks.

How long is forever?  Depends where the observation of forever is seen from... a line, a partnership, new project, long standing project... interminable project... a place where there is no end in sight... where the world is forever changed... a song that sings the soul...

All good places.  All, in some way, a forever.

How long is forever?  My forever?  Your forever?  Which forever are we talking about?

How long is forever?

... got a funny text from ... "It is all figured out and it is better." What a relief. I knew that ... was working something through. And now ... well, it read as if things were clearer. I felt a sense of relief. ... is really important to me and we share many, many things.

So, perhaps it was not a 'funny' text. Maybe it was a life changing text that said, all is right with the world and the sun is coming up tomorrow morning and the worry that was consuming all of the light is now allowed to stream in again. Yes, I think that is what it said. And knowing that ... I am relieved. But, until just now, I didn't know the depth of my concern the well of my wishing for a good outcome and the level of connection that I feel with the sender of the text. And now I do. And I feel a sense of gratitude. A complete and total sense of gratitude.

So, perhaps it is funny. That just a few words could be like a great wave ride. Not only were we in the water... I rode the wave too. And it is so very, very good!

An old song, rising song line... old, perhaps several years... old. A rising song line of hoping that it has not been too long since the love that I hold for you has been said...

Rising, in this dark morning. Remembered and in that remembering, ready to put in the hands of the whole of Gathering. It has been a time and time since we have gathered to play.

That moment, soon in person, it is in anticipation, in the rising song line that these old (new) tunes rise. In that rising, hearing all the harmony, all the rhythm, all the countermelody... the dance of the voices on the frame of the rising song. And old song made new in the new light of this day. From that day to this day... a new song, a rising song line.

Reviewed in my head a meeting from day before yesterday. The words were on two tracks. One was to speak about a set of activities that colored all that was on the agenda. The history of and acts of and age of... from a 'then' that is past and gone. Even the players in that set of 'facts' have passed away. It was not a golden time. It was a time, and from that time, there has been great learning. It was a time when there were a set of players who, for many reasons, brought themselves, their gifts and talents, and their friends to play. Those were good parties. We raise a toast to that time and those great parties.

Now it is this time. The elements of that time are present in person and memory. The good is present. It is enough. Some elements continue to be at the table for the party that we are talking about now. Some. Those elements, no longer needed can be honored and placed aside. Honored and ... a decision to continue or pass on with each. This requires time, space and sorting. Sometimes the sorting has become that of ... just getting through the pile of 'required' activities to get to the basic file of who is invited. Is that the best way to throw a party? How about if we begin with ... we are throwing a party. We, the collected folks right here, this merry band, are throwing a party. The steps after that, the theme, the party decorations, the invitations, the ... who else is coming... what will we do???? All that comes as the next step... and it is steps. I am excited, we, together, have decided to throw a party. We have given it dates and we know that at least the little group sitting here is coming. Now we can do the next step. Who are we inviting along. For now we know, as a group, a we... an 'I' group we know the ... Where am 'I' going? Now we can do the next step... the 'who' is going with me?

Have been thinking about 'separate but equal' in all aspects of the ranch in the past days. The plants doing well, the plants giving their all, the plants plowed under, the new crop rising... separate but equal? Of, all part of a cycling flow that is connected in every aspect?

Of either/or ... of all/and... yes? If it is either/or, the life and death struggle of paths taken or not taken, lives lived or abandoned, good or bad... then the separate but equal fits and works. There is always the right or wrong, the a or b, the moving from this to that... linear and the good or the bad, the straight and narrow or off the path.

Then there is the all/and. Connected, engaged, all a part, the seed falls on both the soil and on the stone. The rain falls on both the good or the ill, the math works on both the balanced and the unbalanced, living into life is ... enough.

One is taken as fatalistic and the other as the struggle to remain on the side of right, light and good. No answer, just clarity that it being one or the other is not the correct answer. It is much more than that, this growing, this harvest, this plowing in and beginning again. For the river that was 'that' harvest has now become the river that is 'this' harvest. To plant last year in this year or water last year in this year is to miss the element of this moment. The rising sun of this moment is the only rising sun.

And, bringing along the library of every rising sun... well, just the box might obscure the moment of this rising sun. So it is with 'separate but equal.' Just not sure at this moment how that is.

In gratitude of this moment of dawning from darkness.

Feeling pissed. Start where I am... work to better feeling thoughts.

Years ago, a quarantine response for an export partner called out a certain set of actions. With those actions, there was supposed continued assured access to the markets of that export partner. The fruit of the ranch, with a certain set of field response, would continue to flow to the high return market.

While it may have allowed access to the packing house, the market itself was closed to the ranch's product. Not because of the pest pressure but because the visual quality of the fruit of the trees that are this ranch did not meet the standards of the buyers. This was for many reasons other than the pest.

It was a teaching in the farming learning system. The marketing organization made a pitch to have all growers maintain access to the packing house by saying that growers who did the pest response would continue to have access to the value added market. That was the public 'sell' for the pest response. In fact it just meant that the packing house could defray the cost of a packing pest response by having an acceptable quarantine response happen in the field ... so that there were no adjustments needed at the house level. Why add product cost in house when it an be taken care of pre-house.

A valuable lesson in Agricultural economics and widgets... One that has served well in farming.

The more I learn, the less I know. And, when that learning causes the collapse of a set of expectations, ... once the emphasis on the wrong syllable ... moves from painful recognition to funny joke, then it is a good thing. 

The more I learn the less I know. When a crew is working on a plan, and the crew has different agendas for the various aspects, there are many ways to coordinate. When the ... crew coordinates with recognition of the agenda both for the larger plan and for each aspect of the collaborators' agendas... then, while it is a more complicated beginning, the 'where we are going' becomes clear and the re-adjustments of coordination along the way... can be less of a struggle.

The five rules of music apply... breath, posture, articulation, collaboration, and practice. The assumption that everyone already knows the form... ah, there may be some issues with the form. It makes me laugh ... the more I learn the less I know.

The more I learn the less I know.  

When something comes easily, out of the blue, and moves with the ease of a partnership, forged from long ago and put away very carefully in expectant knowing that it, strong forged blade, might be needed again one day... comes then easily from the scabbard or easily from the hammer holster, or easily from the book shelf... that little set of knowing and relationship that comes ... out of the blue ... to remind that we are all connected. And in that connection, there are strong forged bonds.

A couple of years ago, a friend, not heard from in years, tapped a message of health, care and appreciation for acts shared from a long time ago. It was out of the blue. It ripped the cover off a set of memories, long put away in a closet, dark, locked and ... I thought forgotten.

The strength of the memory gave support to do a project that had been stalled for several months. The strength of the ... out of the blue ... outreach gave that little support piece to step out, step out and take the project by the horns and move it ... with the whole team, for we had all been stuck, to a new level. To the level where it wasn't stuck any more. The parts that were jammed up started to move. The clogs fell away. The whole thing, just for a few tapped words, out of the blue... 

I was reminded... and am reminded that it, if I do believe that we are all connected, and I do, ... I have to also know that there is no, out of the blue. It is just the rise and ebb and fall of the harmony of all song lines. It was a moment of ringing in of one of the connections. Not before, not after, for I did chase after to try to hear the harmony again. 

And there is the simple set of rules. Show up. Breath. Posture. Articulation. Collaboration. Practice. Repeat.

The gratitude of the gift to be allowed to show.  After that, the practice of showing up in all aspects... that is the quid pro quo.