Tag Archives: space dust

A MOMENT IN TIME

A MOMENT IN TIME
(A conversation between Xero Aticus
and the Psychedelic Toad.)
Lee Broom

XERO: G’morning Psycho; what time is it?

PSYCHO: G’morning Xero; g’bye.

XERO: What’s with you and your morning manners?

PSYCHO: Do you see a watch on my tiny toad wrist?

XERO: I was referring to our last conversation.

PSYCHO: Last? How can we have had our last conversation? We                              are talking aren’t we? Geesh, this could go on forever.

XERO:      That’s what I meant; how much time is there?

PSYCHO: Till what? Forever? The end of Forever?

XERO:       Yeah, whadda you think?

PSYCHO: We passed it up, Xero; we’re starting over.

XERO:      Cool, so what time is it?

 

 

TIME AS EXPERIENCED AND AS REMEMBERED


REMEMBERED

 

Time for all purposes is measured two ways; the way we experience it and the way we remember it.

If you find yourself complaining that life is going too fast as you age I’m guessing that you need to get our head out of Your Past and open Your Present.

Our minds when in use, think in Real Time just as they did during our first year as guests on Planet Earth as we crawled about looking for a way to rise to our feet and better understand our environment.

Fear drives us to reminisce in search of better times. We hope as we do so that somehow this will build us back up and supply us with a new vigor, increased courage, as aids to facing the problems which threaten our current feelings of safety.

We must stay in the present as much as possible.

This, not That.

This is where Life is.

This is the secret to staying young.

Lets live it.

Lets Accept The Love and Pass it on.

 

 

THE XEROIC RESPONSE TO FEAR

THE XEROIC RESPONSE TO FEAR
(A conversation between Xero Aticus
and the Psychedelic Toad.)
Lee Broom

 

PSYCHO: So tell me XERO, what is it that you fear the most?

XERO: Nada, zilch, double zilch.

PSYCHO: What rhymes with zilch?

XERO: You’re changing the subject.

PSYCHO: It’s my subject. It was I who asked you what you fear; it                                 was I who asked you what rhymes with zilch. The answer                           is filch, which I believe is a word for theft, which is what                               you are doing when you beat around the bush.; you’re                                 stealing your own identity…
So tell me; what are the four things you fear the most?

XERO: Why four?

PSYCHO:(Silence.)

XERO: Okay, okay.

PSYCHO: (Silence)

XERO: Four things?

PSYCHO: (Silence.)

XERO: Okay I’ve got it.

PSYCHO: Ribbet

XERO: Toads don’t say “ribbet”; that’s the language of frogs.

PSYCHO: So…

XERO:  The four things are…

PSYCHO: (Silence)

XERO: Baptists, Muslims, Republicans and Democrats.

PSYCHO: Libertarians?

XERO: Them too.

PSYCHO:  Librarians?

XERO: Not afraid of Librarians.

PSYCHO: Why is that, XERO?

XERO: It’s okay with them if I think.

PSYCHO: Aren’t you a Lutheran?

XERO: I am.

PSYCHO: Why’s that?

XERO: Martin Luther was a Librarian in his spare time.

PSYCHO: Really?

XERO: Really.

 

PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE

bathroom 1 014

“The human brain is an unstoppable piece of machinery that from birth to death whirrs out text and imagery at unfathomable rates of speed. Perhaps the Creative among us are not Truly Creative at all.

Those of us who are blessed with a thoughtful, interested audience may only possess  the ability to quickly spot and recognize a new idea, to focus on that idea and with brush or pen, to create an original expression of that idea.”

My first retail store was located in Scottsdale AZ,  a DYS picture frame shop. For the first few years this store was the only such business in North Scottsdale. It was a fun way to earn a few bucks.

There was an artist, a bit of a late bloomer, who often arrived as our doors opened,  paintings in hand, her painted canvasses from the art classes she was taking at Scottsdale Community College.

Her work was horrible. She couldn’t  draw a straight line with a yard stick.

At first she tried framing her own work but her uncooperative thumbs (ten as I recall) helped her to decide that a more professional craftsman would know the best solutions.

I and my team framed many of her works  over the years;  her work improved and we adapted to her enthusiastic, wolfish tenacity..

I gave her a biography one day, of Pablo Picasso. The first chapter described little Pablo, who, acting on his father’s advice, went to the garden, chose a flower and drew it.

He  drew that floral beauty dozens of times until his hand seemed to have a mind of its own. He had begun with the expectation of becoming a slave to perfection, learning instead that the appearance of the finished work depended upon purpose and he developed the practice of rendering several very different impressions of his subject.

Having been influenced by that same chapter during my own childhood I had successfully practiced the same technique and wondered if this might be of some help to our friend.   She gratefully emulated Picasso’s example on a daily basis and the quality of her work seemed to grow .

She told me one day that a major gallery in New York City wanted to manage her career; She was moving to The Big Apple;  within a few years I began to see her work turn up on the walls of homes gracing the pages of Architectural Digest and American Artist.

Like the lady I just described and like many artists, I was not born with the ability to draw or sing or play the piano. I arrived with curiosity. I was born with questions afloat in my head. My earliest infantile experiments were well under way as I rose for my first step and fell again to my knees.

Whenever I hear someone describe themselves as lacking creativity, I become instantly sad. I mourn because I recognize the pain that this kind of affirmation causes.

Daily descriptions of what we perceive as our limitations, render these ideas into nightmares and the nightmares into shame, blame and often violence.

I have a few standard quips for those who regularly repeat such ideas about themselves but being a part of my memorized repertoire these  “standard” retorts seem to lack credibility.

As for myself, it has been awhile since waking at 2:00 AM with the dream-words spilling from my lips, “Lee you dumb-shit-you did it again.”


Lee Broom

 

SPACE DUST DOOLIABBA

 

SPACE DUST DOOLIABBA

Everything in the universe is made from the crumbs of something else.

If everything in the material  universe was suddenly invulnerable, movement would stop  and the Universe would die.

The Memory of all Past and Future Events, the Source of all Love would Forget everything and in fact would never have Been.

In order for the Universe to thrive it must be in a constant state of change. in order to guarantee change the material life of everything must be limited.

And the tool that makes it so is what psychologists refer to as affirmation.

The birth of life brings with it the concept of fear. Fear drive us to seek safety,”Us” being everything from the lowest form of life to the greatest. A blade of grass does not “think” but domesticated plants react differently when one caretaker is replaced with another.

A large rock hurtling through space does not “think” but nevertheless  has been fleeing the worst danger of its life by taking the shortest possible route, a straight line.

In reality this rock is a mere fragment of a larger fragment of yet a larger rock and is not going in a straight line at all but is actually in orbit around a large ball of gas which also has been misled in the facts of its destiny, totally unaware of the hungry black hole blocking the path of its solar plane.

You and I and the cells within us emerged from our maternal safe place, encountered danger and began our lives in terror not knowing that each safe place we entered was a reminder of ultimate danger. It is this awareness that ultimately brings us to our knees.

For most or all of our lives the knowledge of our destiny with death is our greatest strength.

Yet there are others who realize that the safety they sought, expecting and hoping to be Love was actually extremely conditional.

We eventually surrendered as we stumbled unto the unconditional , timeless zone inhabited by the memory of all past and future events we now know as Love.

We accept The Love and Pass It On.


Lee Broom

HAMBURGER HEAVEN

A friend of mine was dying. Ben was nervous. There was nothing left for him here on earth. A wealthy man, a religious man, he was nevertheless, frightened.

Another friend, not wealthy, but full of ideas,  spoke up.

“What do you think it will be like in Heaven, Ben?”

“I don’t know” replied the puny one, “St Peter at the gate, with God on a throne of puffy white clouds. Angels all around. What is your dream of the afterlife?”

“One day”, replied Fred “I will at the speed of light, suddenly notice that I know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything! I will remember every event from the first few minutes of the big bang as well as all events in the future. Nothing will be left to know and I  will be the sole repository of LOVE. When you start your day, assuming you are still alive, I am who you will be talking to in your morning prayers.”

“And who will I be after I die, assuming you died first and went to Heaven.”

“I will not have gone to heaven, I will BE heaven”.

“And who will I become?”

“Me.”

“Wow.”

I picked up the hamburger from my sick friends plate and took a bite.

 

Overheard in an Alley

color029_sJPG_950_2000_0_75_0_50_50 Boy building a model airplane as girl watches. Robstown, Texas, January 1942. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Arthur Rothstein. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Voice One: The guy with the hair; what’s his name again?

Voice Two: I forget.

Voice One: They say he’s guilty.

Voice Two: Who says he’s guilty?

Voice One: Everybody.

Voice Two: Really?

Voice One: Yeah, really. So Whaddaya think?

Voice Two: About what?

Voice One: Is he guilty?

Voice Two: Who? The guy with the hair?

Voice One: Yeah.

Voice Two: Guilty of what?

Voice One: I don’t know, actually. It must be something awful.

Voice Two: Why do you think that?

Voice One: Well, because; He won’t defend himself.

Voice Two: Did he say why?

Voice One: It didn’t make much sense, come to think of it.

Voice Two: Okay, but what was it; what’d he say?

Voice One: Something about turning his head or something like that?

Voice Two: Could it have been about turning the other cheek?

Voice One: Cheeks, yeah. Turn the other cheek. That was it. Whaddaya think he
meant?

Voice Two: Well you were there. What did you think?

Voice One: Beats me.

Voice Two: Then why do you think he’s guilty? You don’t know what he’s guilty
of but you think he’s guilty. He doesn’t defend himself and you seem
to think that this is evidence of his guilt. And now that you’ve heard
his reason for not defending himself, you don’t know what he means
but you still think he’s guilty?

Voice One: Everybody else does.

Voice Two: What he said was that when someone wrongs us or metaphorically
slaps us across the cheek that it is better to turn our cheek and let
the offender slap the other cheek than to have our revenge with him.
His reason appears to be that it is better for only one person to suffer
than two.
And you know yourself that when you argue with someone it is rare
for anyone to come out on top.

Voice One: Well, I still think he’s guilty.

Voice Two: Why’s that.

Voice One: Because, Silly; everybody knows he’s guilty.

Voice Two: And that’s it?

Voice One: What can you expect from a guy like that?

Voice Two: A guy like what?

Voice One: Well ask anyone; everybody knows he was born in a barn.