<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267</id><updated>2011-07-28T20:00:21.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stray Dog Culture</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-1286555032862457066</id><published>2010-01-28T06:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T00:44:57.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Perfect Average Day</title><content type='html'>I wake up after a deep and refreshing sleep. Diana is next to me. We smile at each other knowing that each other is exited about what the day will bring. I kiss her and say "Good morning babe. I love you so much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are in a room colored by soft warm morning sunlight &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2Gp0lgb5xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/o5nekKSZFDM/s1600-h/BeachRoom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2Gp0lgb5xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/o5nekKSZFDM/s320/BeachRoom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431809346471978770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;that illuminates a mixture of cream colored walls and furniture. The bed is king sized with a soft mattress and a flat wood headboard shaped like half-moon and has the design of a sun with rays that extend from the center to the edges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2Grb7SU9hI/AAAAAAAAAA0/EvgrfhGoDHM/s1600-h/MorningCream.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2Grb7SU9hI/AAAAAAAAAA0/EvgrfhGoDHM/s320/MorningCream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431811121844909586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We are laying in a mangled whip-cream like ocean of creamy sheets and soft light weight blankets. There are several full length widows to our left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun is coming in creating a golden glow. I can see dust floating in and out of the rays of light. It reminds me of laying in bed as a child in my back bedroom on 1st street. The dust looks like little specks of living gold. Each one having fun dipping and diving in and out of the magical ray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2GrB7bIpQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/w3AhtxeQ4-o/s1600-h/Sunrays.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 169px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2GrB7bIpQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/w3AhtxeQ4-o/s320/Sunrays.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431810675205252354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside ocean waves are crashing and creating the perfect background music for the perfect morning. We can see the palm trees sway to a gentle breeze that comes through one open window and tickles the bare parts of our skin. We can here voices and laughter in the distance. We both lay motionless for several minutes, soaking in the beauty of the moment. Our minds are clear, but we have little smiles that are brought on by knowing that this day, like all others, holds new magical experiences. We make love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then throw on my gray shorts. They are so comfortable that I bought 10 pairs. I get exited about going to the yoga class that is just a 5 minute walk down the beach. I usually don't where a shirt, only flip flops and shorts. Camila is still sleeping so I will see her when I get back. Everyone in this small  beach town is starting to move around. I can here the day outside starting. It always gives me a little twinge of excitement to think about a new day. I think how lucky we are to be part of a such a close and warm community. This truly is paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diana is still in bed and looks so beautiful and sweet. I give quick kiss before leaving the bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowly and mindfully walk into the adjoining kitchen. It is also is a cream color, but it splashed by tropical colors. The whole house has dull white tile flooring with a dark colored grout. The tiles feel cool on my bare feet, I always pay attention to this in the morning time. The counter tops are made of dark granite and the cabinets are white to give an open airy feel. I walk over to the sink to get a quick drink of water. Above the sink is a window looking out to the beach which is about 50 yards away. I smile when I see some familiar faces outside. Just a few people are coming and going. They all have simple smiles of contentment, no rushing or stress, just laid-back and simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simplicity is a high on my list of important qualities. To my right is a small dining area with a table that sits six. It has a glass top with white metal legs. The matching chairs are also metal and white put have some cushion on the seat and back. I walk past the table and step out side the sliding glass door that opens to our small concrete patio. I see the palms sway and wave to a couple friends and a stranger that passes by on the small concrete boardwalk that borders the beach. I can smell the see and some fresh food that is being prepared by a neighboring cafe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take a deep conscious breath and whisper "thank you". As I walk cheerfully down the boardwalk to my morning yoga class the seagulls flutter to my left. Above my head are the palm leaves that form dancing shadows along the houses and buildings to my right.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I notice all the details. After the 5 minute jaunt I reach the yoga studio. It a raised bamboo platform about 50 by 50 feet. There are no walls, just posts that hold up a thatched roof. People are inside stretching and talking. They are all close friends. I give a hug to the instructor who is a small woman about 40 years old. She long dark unkept hair. Her smile makes me smile. I then give a hug to a couple of other friends and say hi to everyone else. We talk and laugh. They are all very happy to see me. There are about 15 of us today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay my thick black mat down in the first of three rows. I like to be in the front row so I can focus on the ocean while holding a pose. We begin with a short mediation. My breath quickly and naturally aligns with the crashing of each small wave. I am totally present. We move through the poses and feel so good that I can't help smiling. My friends smile back, they understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love living in place where shirts are optional, especially since I am so proud of my physique. I eat a lot of healthy vegetables, fruits and fish and exercise daily so my muscles are toned and there is almost no fat on my body. I like to see my reflection and see a nice tanned body that is so natural, healthy and full of calm energy. After the session I make plans with a couple of friends to meet at a local restaurant for dinner and drinks. I slowly roll up my mat return home feeling refreshed and energized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love walking up to our little house to see Diana and Camila on the patio eating breakfast. Diana made some scrambled eggs with little chunks of various vegetables served with some homemade salsa. They both smile at me as I approach the patio. Camila says "Hi Papi". Her smile is magic. Diana gives me a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade that perfectly quenches my thirst after a sweaty workout. It tastes so fresh and cool. The citrus gives me a little shiver and I exaggerate it to make Camila laugh. I give a little kiss and say "good morning".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its about 9am and the warm ocean breeze goes perfect with my warm homemade breakfast. I eat slowly and savor every juicy bite. The fresh avocado slices are so good I close my eyes to enjoy the moment. I think about how grateful I am to be in this perfect spot with the perfect family. I love my life here. I kiss the girls goodbye and head over to my studio which is just few blocks down the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enter the studio from the back. My employee is already hard at work when I enter. "Hola amigo, como estas?" He smiles and give me the rundown on the latest project. Another excellent day. It is small office that has two large desks each with a big Mac computer and a couple filing cabinets. There is some tasteful art on the wall and a few plants, but very little clutter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have several items that I sell online. My employee handles all the technical aspects and keeps me updated on daily sales and issues. He can take care of most of the small hiccups, but once in awhile I step in to put out a fire. This is very rare because my products are down-loadable so I don't have to worry about shipping, damaged goods, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love giving a local guy a good job. He is a computer wiz, but also understands the business and works hard. I love giving him bonuses and little extras. We have become friends since he started working for me. He happily takes care of the stuff I don't want to deal with so its a perfect relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The products I sell help people. I always try to give the customer a lot more than they pay for. I want my products to over deliver. The customer should get there item and say "Wow! This is awesome." Its fun to experiment with marketing and promotion, but it is idea creation and experimentation that I love the most. I come up with new ideas daily and get so exited when they start to percolate and become a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's sales were around $1000 and today is shaping up to be the same. Its great making all this money knowing that I'm helping people and giving them exactly what they want. We spend about 30 minutes going over numbers and I throw around a couple new ideas that came to me the day before. We laugh and commence small talk before I get up and move to the adjoining art studio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where I have the most fun. It is a beige colored room with a huge window overlooking some houses, palms and the beach. There is an easel to the right that reflects the light from the front window. I have a shelving to the left with well organized art supplies. Next to that are some blank canvases just waiting to be adorned. I look a the progress of my current work and smile. It has so many imperfections and is so personal that most people wouldn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do my art from the inside. I let it flow and don't force anything. Sometimes it comes out great and other times not so great. I don't care because it is something I do for myself. I just enjoy the process. Although, my ego does get a kick out of gallery showings and the reactions I see on peoples faces when they see the creations. Sometimes I venture from the canvas and experiment with other art projects, but I always seem to come back to the canvas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I begin working I like to sit in stillness for a few minutes. When I do this the inspiration just comes to me. I make sure that I don't judge what I feel, but just let it flow onto the canvas. It is so much fun to see what comes out of my mind on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camila splashes in the water and plays in the sand with a couple of the other kids. Diana and I are under a big umbrella sitting on some plastic furniture. Every so often we just sit in silence and listen to the waves and the voices. We completely soak up the moment. Diana looks so good in her little bikini. She also likes to wear colorful cloth skirts, homemade sandals and big modern sunglasses. I look over and give a smile. We talk about how Camila is growing and how great it is that she can grow up in this paradise with such happy easy going people. I keep her updated on happenings with the business and my art projects. She listens intently and gives her own ideas on what might work. I keep an open mind because I know that she has more insight than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we talk people pass by and stop for a brief chat. They ask how we are doing. It is so fun to interact with like-minded people. I think to myself how interesting it is to meet such a variety of people and learn how they ended up in this little beach town. Some of my friends have businesses just like I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-1286555032862457066?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/1286555032862457066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2010/01/perfect-average-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/1286555032862457066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/1286555032862457066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2010/01/perfect-average-day.html' title='The Perfect Average Day'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-53EjBdjf-g/S2Gp0lgb5xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/o5nekKSZFDM/s72-c/BeachRoom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-2574655128711410257</id><published>2010-01-17T06:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T06:49:46.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Circle of Death</title><content type='html'>Baby vampires sleep in trees. The cool air and lofty camouflage are essential to their survival. I feel sorry for the unsuspecting sparrow who nests on a branch within spitting distance from the newborn killer with its incisor teeth and anticoagulant saliva. Preparing for a new family, the bird picks and pecks until the nest is complete. It is only after she lays the eggs does the vampire attack and although it is swift and painless, I feel sad that the offspring will never know their loving Mother, but only the piercing crack of the shell and the slurp of insides that is a midnight snack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-2574655128711410257?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/2574655128711410257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2010/01/circle-of-death.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/2574655128711410257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/2574655128711410257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2010/01/circle-of-death.html' title='Circle of Death'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-7247494810294439700</id><published>2009-12-28T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T05:40:56.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vision</title><content type='html'>Here is what it looks like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make $1000/day online with 2 hours of work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a huge creative work space with painting, woodworking tools, sewing machines. I just go in there and get lost for 5 or 6 hours per day. I also has an awesome mountain view and a killer surround sound system for music. The lighting is natural and highly adjustable and there is always some incense burning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I need a break from being creative so we pack up travel to Mexico, Costa Rica, Spain or Thailand. It lasts about a month, but I can't wait to get back to my space.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-7247494810294439700?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/7247494810294439700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/vision.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/7247494810294439700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/7247494810294439700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/vision.html' title='Vision'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-3323046498017206151</id><published>2009-12-23T06:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T06:22:52.052-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of Costa Rica</title><content type='html'>I just found my old website front page from www.cheap-travel-costa-rica.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn I put alot of work into that site. I am going to slowly migrate all my content over here and maybe start a new site some day. I put it over to notes from Joe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-3323046498017206151?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/3323046498017206151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/memories-of-costa-rica.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/3323046498017206151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/3323046498017206151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/memories-of-costa-rica.html' title='Memories of Costa Rica'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-1615973992692021616</id><published>2009-12-15T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T21:14:24.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It was a swampy afternoon when a green ball the size of a baby fist fell from the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SPLASH!    ...into the surface of a calm deserted lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ripple rings moved across the placid skin of the water until they gently bounced against the nose of a peaceful tree squirrel before continuing their journey outward to the infinite edge of the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All who felt the vibration knew it was time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shift was swift, like an razor sharp axe cutting through a block of huckleberry cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was indistinct on some but extraordinarily fierce on others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets jump to the 4th dimension and take a 360 degree look at some of not so subtle ramifications:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"QUEEJACK! Did I scare you?" It was Rom, he loved to sneak up and shout meaningless words to startle his mate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maylee rolled over and smiled, "I was just thinking of you. Come over and take a sip, it tastes extra sweet today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He laughed, "It's so dirty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mmm" she moaned. "Then definitely come here and take a drink."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rom couldn't resist those glossy green eyes. Ever since they connected he was a hopeless victim to Maylee's playful seduction. As he moved closer her lips swelled and ears sank back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he pounced, violently tossing her little body into the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She whimpered as he ravaged her. The strip of fir that ran the length of her spine began to stand on end. An internal eruption of pleasure caused her to temporarily detach from the world of form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both lay panting in the shallow waters letting their senses absorb the experience fully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-1615973992692021616?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/1615973992692021616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-was-swampy-afternoon-when-green-ball.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/1615973992692021616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/1615973992692021616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-was-swampy-afternoon-when-green-ball.html' title=''/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-6599679212422080687</id><published>2009-05-24T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T14:14:58.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why meditate? To Live Deeply</title><content type='html'>So I have been playing with spirituality for a couple years now. Why? This question was posed to me this morning. I realized that there must be a simple reason. The first answers that came to mind were: I want more peace, I want to be less angry, I want meaning, I want to dissolve the ego, I want purpose, I want less confusion, I want simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crave all these qualities, but they just seem superficial. I meditated for twenty-five minutes today. This is my longest meditation to date. Most of the time it is five or ten minutes. During this time the most profound answer made its way through the tornado of thoughts: To live deeply. And this is what I really want above all. Most beings probably have the same want at their core. If you live deeply then anything that happens on the outside will be somewhat unimportant. Outside circumstances change like the seasons. If one is present to experience everything then the actual events will all be satisfying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-6599679212422080687?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/6599679212422080687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-meditate-to-live-deeply.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/6599679212422080687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/6599679212422080687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-meditate-to-live-deeply.html' title='Why meditate? To Live Deeply'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3184875927240665267.post-3515537125186225564</id><published>2009-05-04T08:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T08:42:32.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mountains have Answers</title><content type='html'>Today was the second time I went to the mountains for answers. I was stuck some trivial issues concerning my little Internet marketing adventure. My mind kept saying no its too hard, its not going to work, am I'm wasting my time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was losing site of the goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went up into the mountains and became still. It was refreshing. There is something magical about sitting quietly in the crisp morning air. I let go and clarity came to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know exactly where I'm going with the website. More importantly I felt a warm feeling about Diana, like her love was with me. When I got home the usual frustration was gone and our day together started with lightness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3184875927240665267-3515537125186225564?l=straydogculture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/feeds/3515537125186225564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/05/mountains-have-answers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/3515537125186225564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3184875927240665267/posts/default/3515537125186225564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straydogculture.blogspot.com/2009/05/mountains-have-answers.html' title='The Mountains have Answers'/><author><name>Dusty Falcon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13939884512240157238</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
