New Year's Day at the Obamachron. It's as quiet as the grave. I'm listening to William D. Hartung talk about the trillion dollar war machine. Once we find our feet, he says, we've got a lot of work to do.

It's a mix of ideology and greed. It's a trillion dollar war machine.

 I read a doctor in Gaza, still studying healing in the midst of genocide. In this practice there is merit, for all the world.

Many images disappeared this year. If they disappeared they must have appeared, but there's no trace. There's a trace in mind of what was and still is. Therefore, we say yes. Seeing things as they are, without seeing. We know some things without seeing, for we have seen things. We know what is, though we can't put a finger on it. Things come together as things fall apart. Things blow apart like stars. The heart is yet mirroring. This is reality, both out there, on the ground, and ungrounded, within us, down there, within us, beyond knowing. Known in such a way as this observing, not merely, not knowing, bearing witness, healing. Because of the artificial light we can't see the stars. They're still there as we are. Under the artificial landscape there is still the one ground, unknown and knowing.

 when you get to the end you begin again

 It's a love affair.

 What is our true nature?