Did you know that there are hundreds and hundreds of pages here?

This appears to me to be a figure kneeling in front of a messy infinity.  
I suppose that sums it up well enough.

Pageviews by Countries
United States
United Kingdom
I know that India has been here, too.  When I had the feedjit device, I saw that I had a slew of hits from Delhi last year just before I shut it down for a bit.  These were likely the result of a web search by the nice lady I was trying to get a job from at the EconoLodge, a woman telling her family, “Look at the crazy lady that wants to work at the motel.”
I also had some hits from random countries in North Africa.  
This is the advantage of responding to messages from spammers and scammers.  

You end up being a little part of someone’s story and they become a little part of yours.


I hid this blog again, stripped down the profile and pulled it from the search engines.  No, I am not up to anything.

I just don’t think my current employer would understand precisely how this project is Art.

How it is, in fact, vital to me.


I have a lot of work to do.

What am I waiting for?

Well, for one, I am still waiting for someone to prove me wrong about clouds and language, the physics of consciousness, about God, about our minds and our hearts and our meanings.

Then I could get on with my life.

That doesn’t seem to be happening.

Quite to the contrary, synchronicities abound and the stories are getting woven tighter and tighter and tighter, the degrees of separation more and more narrow.

They’ll never figure out how we did it.

Of course, we didn’t do it.

We just paid attention, because that’s what we do, isn’t it?

We pay attention.

“Who is ‘we’, Ms. Rhyne?”

I dunno.

…and what exactly did ‘we’ do?

We told some stories, sang some songs, made some pictures, and wrecked some really bad ideas.

We held onto the threads and we saved our lives.

Is there really anything to say?

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