Re: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust
And I really enjoyed seeing this side of you, Doc (-: I also liked that phrase about sunroof and stars. From: doctordumb...@rocketmail.com doctordumb...@rocketmail.com To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 10:41 AM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust I really enjoyed this, Barry. Both experiences you shared, getting high with the Madonna in Big Sur, and your conversation last night. I like your phrase, driving with the sunroof...open, to feel closer to the stars. I am often in awe of those I meet. Once you get beyond the social interface, everyone is pretty fucking amazing. These days, everyone is really peaking their potential. Some of these athletes, artists and scientists are so gifted, I look at what they do, with my jaw on the floor, thinking how could I accomplish that in *ten* lifetimes. Great to see another side of you, and enjoy the south of France - looks like it agrees with you. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb no_reply@... wrote: I arrived back at our vacation house late last night, after driving with the sunroof of the car open so I could feel closer to the stars that are so present here in the south of France and that are so missing in Paris. I was feeling high and nostalgic and happy, so didn't feel like spoiling that by reading FFL in depth, but a quick scan of Message View revealed the phrase in the Subject line above, so because that's one of my favorite nostalgia songs, I clicked on the post and listened to it. It provided a marvelous final touch to an already marvelous evening, so I thank whoever posted it. If you like the song, too, check out this version. which contains a few clips from that rarest of rarities, the long-lost Bob Dylan/Sam Shepard film http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara Renaldo Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE My feelings of nostalgia were heightened by the song, because I was on my way home from a Great Conversation, and singer reminded me of one of my first such conversations in this lifetime. That one took place on a cliff in Big Sur, on the lawn of what is now the Esalen Institute, and was at the time the Big Sur Hot Springs Inn. I had arrived there a day early for a small folk festival, and like the other early-arrivers found my way to the cliff edge to watch the sun set over the Pacific. I wound up sitting among a small group of people, not really noticing who they were when I first sat down. I *did* notice that they were passing a joint, and because I'd never smoked grass before, that intrigued me. Then one of them noticed me and passed me the doobie, from which I gratefully took my first puff. It was only then that I noticed that one of the people passing it to me was Joan Baez, and that I was sitting among a small group of the festival performers, which also included her sister Mimi (wife of my hero at that time, the late Richard Farina) and Al Kooper, whose work I knew from a couple of Dylan albums. But I figured my best bet was to treat them as if I didn't recognize who they were, and interact with them like I would anyone else. That turned out to be the best approach I could have possibly taken, because we wound up enjoying each others' company and having the most marvelous stoned, soaring conversation I'd ever experienced in my life. The song also captured a similar here-and-now sense of nostalgia and joy last night, because I'd just come from another such Great Conversation. My best friend Laurel and I drove over to Sauve to have dinner with our former next-door-neighbor, good friend, and landlord during the years we lived there, Robert. Joining us was another friend from Sauve, a jazz pianist of some repute named Tony. We met at Robert's house and then walked over to a new restaurant in town, created inside what had until recently been a defunct train station, and had dinner. The cuisine was excellent, as was their house wine (Laurel, Tony and I sharing it, because Robert hasn't imbibed alcohol, drugs, or anything else of that ilk for over 40 years), but it was really the conversation that made the evening so spectacular. Robert's an artist of some note. He's also painfully shy, so we were the perfect company for him -- good friends who treated him as a good friend, and nothing more. After all, he'd moved to this small town 22 years earlier to *avoid* being recognized everywhere he went, in a country that rightly considered him pretty much a god, one of the primary inventors of an artform (BD - Bande Dessiné - the graphic novel) that they held in high esteem. It was pretty much the same dynamic in place as during
Re: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust
Well, Doc, I like the tantric ness of that phrase hard boiled mystic and I think it fits you well. Lordy, what is in the air these days?! I've been having some rich dreams too but not about anyone from Funny Farm Lounge. So far (-: From: doctordumb...@rocketmail.com doctordumb...@rocketmail.com To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 12:57 PM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust Its an unusual relationship I have with Barry. I don't know if he is aware of it, though I have engaged him in lucid dreams, three times, over the years. The last time was earlier in this week. I won't go into details, except to say it was quite normal, and mutually beneficial. As always, Doc, the hard-boiled mystic - lol --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Share Long sharelong60@... wrote: And I really enjoyed seeing this side of you, Doc (-: I also liked that phrase about sunroof and stars. From: doctordumbass@... doctordumbass@... To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 10:41 AM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust  I really enjoyed this, Barry. Both experiences you shared, getting high with the Madonna in Big Sur, and your conversation last night. I like your phrase, driving with the sunroof...open, to feel closer to the stars. I am often in awe of those I meet. Once you get beyond the social interface, everyone is pretty fucking amazing. These days, everyone is really peaking their potential. Some of these athletes, artists and scientists are so gifted, I look at what they do, with my jaw on the floor, thinking how could I accomplish that in *ten* lifetimes. Great to see another side of you, and enjoy the south of France - looks like it agrees with you. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb no_reply@ wrote: I arrived back at our vacation house late last night, after driving with the sunroof of the car open so I could feel closer to the stars that are so present here in the south of France and that are so missing in Paris. I was feeling high and nostalgic and happy, so didn't feel like spoiling that by reading FFL in depth, but a quick scan of Message View revealed the phrase in the Subject line above, so because that's one of my favorite nostalgia songs, I clicked on the post and listened to it. It provided a marvelous final touch to an already marvelous evening, so I thank whoever posted it. If you like the song, too, check out this version. which contains a few clips from that rarest of rarities, the long-lost Bob Dylan/Sam Shepard film http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara Renaldo Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE My feelings of nostalgia were heightened by the song, because I was on my way home from a Great Conversation, and singer reminded me of one of my first such conversations in this lifetime. That one took place on a cliff in Big Sur, on the lawn of what is now the Esalen Institute, and was at the time the Big Sur Hot Springs Inn. I had arrived there a day early for a small folk festival, and like the other early-arrivers found my way to the cliff edge to watch the sun set over the Pacific. I wound up sitting among a small group of people, not really noticing who they were when I first sat down. I *did* notice that they were passing a joint, and because I'd never smoked grass before, that intrigued me. Then one of them noticed me and passed me the doobie, from which I gratefully took my first puff. It was only then that I noticed that one of the people passing it to me was Joan Baez, and that I was sitting among a small group of the festival performers, which also included her sister Mimi (wife of my hero at that time, the late Richard Farina) and Al Kooper, whose work I knew from a couple of Dylan albums. But I figured my best bet was to treat them as if I didn't recognize who they were, and interact with them like I would anyone else. That turned out to be the best approach I could have possibly taken, because we wound up enjoying each others' company and having the most marvelous stoned, soaring conversation I'd ever experienced in my life. The song also captured a similar here-and-now sense of nostalgia and joy last night, because I'd just come from another such Great Conversation. My best friend Laurel and I drove over to Sauve to have dinner with our former next-door-neighbor, good friend, and landlord during the years we lived there, Robert. Joining us was another friend from Sauve, a jazz pianist of some repute named Tony. We met
Re: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust
On 8/29/2013 12:57 PM, doctordumb...@rocketmail.com wrote: Its an unusual relationship I have with Barry. I don't know if he is aware of it, though I have engaged him in lucid dreams, three times, over the years. The last time was earlier in this week. I won't go into details, except to say it was quite normal, and mutually beneficial. Yeah, Barry doesn't really do dialog very well - he's much better at just posting. Online he's very biased and can't seem to work well with others as far as exchanging information - he's very secretive at times. Years ago I made him mad at me when I posted a comment about Rama and the the levitation event - Barry never seemed to got over it. That was ten years ago - he gets his feelings hurt easily, I guess. But I only mentioned it at the time because he was poking fun at the Maharishi for teaching 'bun hopping'. Now that was really funny!!! As always, Doc, the hard-boiled mystic - lol --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com mailto:FairfieldLife%40yahoogroups.com, Share Long sharelong60@... wrote: And I really enjoyed seeing this side of you, Doc (-: I also liked that phrase about sunroof and stars. From: doctordumbass@... doctordumbass@... To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com mailto:FairfieldLife%40yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 10:41 AM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust  I really enjoyed this, Barry. Both experiences you shared, getting high with the Madonna in Big Sur, and your conversation last night. I like your phrase, driving with the sunroof...open, to feel closer to the stars. I am often in awe of those I meet. Once you get beyond the social interface, everyone is pretty fucking amazing. These days, everyone is really peaking their potential. Some of these athletes, artists and scientists are so gifted, I look at what they do, with my jaw on the floor, thinking how could I accomplish that in *ten* lifetimes. Great to see another side of you, and enjoy the south of France - looks like it agrees with you. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com mailto:FairfieldLife%40yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb no_reply@ wrote: I arrived back at our vacation house late last night, after driving with the sunroof of the car open so I could feel closer to the stars that are so present here in the south of France and that are so missing in Paris. I was feeling high and nostalgic and happy, so didn't feel like spoiling that by reading FFL in depth, but a quick scan of Message View revealed the phrase in the Subject line above, so because that's one of my favorite nostalgia songs, I clicked on the post and listened to it. It provided a marvelous final touch to an already marvelous evening, so I thank whoever posted it. If you like the song, too, check out this version. which contains a few clips from that rarest of rarities, the long-lost Bob Dylan/Sam Shepard film http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara Renaldo Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE My feelings of nostalgia were heightened by the song, because I was on my way home from a Great Conversation, and singer reminded me of one of my first such conversations in this lifetime. That one took place on a cliff in Big Sur, on the lawn of what is now the Esalen Institute, and was at the time the Big Sur Hot Springs Inn. I had arrived there a day early for a small folk festival, and like the other early-arrivers found my way to the cliff edge to watch the sun set over the Pacific. I wound up sitting among a small group of people, not really noticing who they were when I first sat down. I *did* notice that they were passing a joint, and because I'd never smoked grass before, that intrigued me. Then one of them noticed me and passed me the doobie, from which I gratefully took my first puff. It was only then that I noticed that one of the people passing it to me was Joan Baez, and that I was sitting among a small group of the festival performers, which also included her sister Mimi (wife of my hero at that time, the late Richard Farina) and Al Kooper, whose work I knew from a couple of Dylan albums. But I figured my best bet was to treat them as if I didn't recognize who they were, and interact with them like I would anyone else. That turned out to be the best approach I could have possibly taken, because we wound up enjoying each others' company and having the most marvelous stoned, soaring conversation I'd ever experienced in my life. The song also captured a similar here-and-now sense of nostalgia and joy last night, because I'd just come from another such Great
Re: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust
Yep, even Maharishi said not all dreaming is unstressing. From: doctordumb...@rocketmail.com doctordumb...@rocketmail.com To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 5:49 PM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust The term 'lucid dream' refers to an unmistakable engagement on the astral plane, not the common imaginary (unstressing) dream state, though both use deep sleep as a foundation. There is a difference, for me, in the experience. In clarity and stillness, a reality that transcends the dreamspace, with tangible, yet very very subtle results. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Share Long sharelong60@... wrote: Well, Doc, I like the tantric ness of that phrase hard boiled mystic and I think it fits you well. Lordy, what is in the air these days?! I've been having some rich dreams too but not about anyone from Funny Farm Lounge. So far (-: From: doctordumbass@... doctordumbass@... To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 12:57 PM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust  Its an unusual relationship I have with Barry. I don't know if he is aware of it, though I have engaged him in lucid dreams, three times, over the years. The last time was earlier in this week. I won't go into details, except to say it was quite normal, and mutually beneficial. As always, Doc, the hard-boiled mystic - lol --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Share Long sharelong60@ wrote: And I really enjoyed seeing this side of you, Doc (-: I also liked that phrase about sunroof and stars. From: doctordumbass@ doctordumbass@ To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 10:41 AM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Diamonds and Rust  I really enjoyed this, Barry. Both experiences you shared, getting high with the Madonna in Big Sur, and your conversation last night. I like your phrase, driving with the sunroof...open, to feel closer to the stars. I am often in awe of those I meet. Once you get beyond the social interface, everyone is pretty fucking amazing. These days, everyone is really peaking their potential. Some of these athletes, artists and scientists are so gifted, I look at what they do, with my jaw on the floor, thinking how could I accomplish that in *ten* lifetimes. Great to see another side of you, and enjoy the south of France - looks like it agrees with you. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb no_reply@ wrote: I arrived back at our vacation house late last night, after driving with the sunroof of the car open so I could feel closer to the stars that are so present here in the south of France and that are so missing in Paris. I was feeling high and nostalgic and happy, so didn't feel like spoiling that by reading FFL in depth, but a quick scan of Message View revealed the phrase in the Subject line above, so because that's one of my favorite nostalgia songs, I clicked on the post and listened to it. It provided a marvelous final touch to an already marvelous evening, so I thank whoever posted it. If you like the song, too, check out this version. which contains a few clips from that rarest of rarities, the long-lost Bob Dylan/Sam Shepard film http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara Renaldo Clara http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Renaldo_And_Clara . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09wI0j9nkkE My feelings of nostalgia were heightened by the song, because I was on my way home from a Great Conversation, and singer reminded me of one of my first such conversations in this lifetime. That one took place on a cliff in Big Sur, on the lawn of what is now the Esalen Institute, and was at the time the Big Sur Hot Springs Inn. I had arrived there a day early for a small folk festival, and like the other early-arrivers found my way to the cliff edge to watch the sun set over the Pacific. I wound up sitting among a small group of people, not really noticing who they were when I first sat down. I *did* notice that they were passing a joint, and because I'd never smoked grass before, that intrigued me. Then one of them noticed me and passed me the doobie, from which I gratefully took my first puff. It was only then that I noticed that one of the people passing it to me was Joan Baez, and that I was sitting among a small group of the festival performers, which also included her sister Mimi (wife of my hero at that time, the late Richard Farina) and Al Kooper, whose work I knew from a couple of Dylan albums
