Intro!

Like a greyhound starting at the slips I have been eager to begin this literary romp from my current campsite somewhere in Encinitas. Several of my managers and/or handlers have given some suggestions as to what to begin (pun may be intended depending on what you had for lunch) this new adventure with.  Misapprehension of Zen dharma, why the Mothership dumped me here in their cozy, suburban lives, and what principle of yogasana and Zen I am incorporating into my life.
That's a lot!
For starters let's just say that I began much of my current journey (up Cold Mountain) in the late 80's.  Teaching people how to rock climb, study the Christian Bible from a Calvinistic viewpoint and then later in the early 90's teaching people (mostly homo sapiens) how to Israeli Folk dance according to a Messianic Jewish format.  After two romps on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), working for Children's Therapeutic Communities (a juvenile population of some really disturbed teens that have grown up to be some really disturbed adults) I, during this time, wanting to improve my skill as a Dancer for the Lord (for the end draweth nigh, dontcha' know) began attempting studies in ballet.  Ideally, one is to undertake such studies in ones pre-pubescent years not at the age of Jesus when the poor chap was crucified (according to myth, legend and a host of witnesses' none of whom are alive now).  Whilst undertaking this most holy of tasks I came across Pilates.  Now, just to be clear, this Pilates was not the Pilates so unkindly misrepresented in the Gospels and later myths about he or his psychotic wife.
But I digress.
I am sure I will much more, tis the nature of the Beast, er beast. Ahem.
This Pilates was a wonderful art form adopted by dancers since the man, one Joseph Pilates designed it sometime during and after WWI (the first great fiasco of the 20th century.  This is not counting the U.S. invasion of the Philippines, starting a war with Mexico and inventing Coca-cola complete with Cocaine.).  My timeline may be off, but in my brief time as a Citizen of the Galaxy so much has gone down.
Digressing again.
Is there a disable switch somewhere on this program?
Thus began what was already embryonic in me.  And what a rough beast it has been, slouching to the Present Moment (if you blink you miss it).  To be brief, I have a real rough go of it with any belief system based on faith.
 Bronze Age belief systems in particular.  They were designed for the Bronze Age.  Get it?  Attempting to force a Mesopotamian or Indian philosophy down the throat of current thought is ludicrous.  The only one to make any kind of sense to me (and with a complete practicum that does not require belief in a "deity/deities", reciting a spell for salvation, holding faith over science, signing my will, body or bank account over to a Guru, fear of divine thought-police and avenging angels, etc)  was my introduction to Japanese "style" Zen Buddhism by his holiness, the jewel-crowned one, with forehead like an alabaster pillar, robes of shimmering rainbows and girded about with Chihuahua skins, amen.
Where was I?  Ah, let me clear me eyes of mirth laddie, before I continue.
This man from Manchester, UK (of all places and dimensions) told me to sit down and shut up.
Didn't work to well, you might say.
Go ahead, say it.
Feel better now?  Mind if I continue?
So to end this bit of a diatribe, the teachings of those old masters, sutra scholars and old women brewing tea by the side of the road.  They inform every aspect of my existence and practice as such.  Nothing to gain, nothing to lose.  To fight when it's time to fight and take a nap when it's time to take a nap.  To live easily in my skin and help others of this feisty and restless species to do the same before we annihilate each other.  Nothing in the singular matters because every thing all at once does. Not for "God" or nation but for each other as long as we are here.  No bullshit, no cotton candy.  My principle for the day?  Which one embraced by all the others?  Which element, which branch?  Perhaps just today, Foundation.  Foundation from where I came from, who I thought I was and who is typing this and who is reading it.
The pine sings, though there is no wind,
The moss is slippery, but there has been no rain.
The trail up Cold Mountain goes on and on.