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What does it mean to be a strain hunter? some thoughts


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What does it mean to be be anything?

what is in a name, any how?

First we have to ask well what is meaning?

After all why should a name, a word, meaning mean anything?

life is a struggle we all endure:

those we love fade before our eyes, and sometimes are gone

long before we are;

we linger between darkness and darkness

where we come from we do not know

where we will end up we do not know.

We have only this moment, the past is gone and the future is yet to be, and even the moment is gone long before we can grasp it fully:

you cannot step into the same river twice, for it is forever moving along with us;

then how can any word help us now?

How can a word bring meaning to our lives and help us live NOW.

All I can say is that when we chose who we are

we chose and create the world;

of course for men it is different, as it also is for women.

but let us not get into that,

let us dig deeper into the heart, its shadowy places, and long passageways,

where there are no such divisions ,

just the flow, and its recognition.

we choose ourselves each single moment,

in doing so, we choose the world.

The way we want the world to be.

A strain hunter is always true.

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Guest superbluehaze

You know a long time ago in ancient Greece, a man went to the Delphi Oracle, and asked a question of it.

For this privilege the cost was high, for She was a famous seer, who could see beyond the present into another place the future, men and women paid heavily in gold and jewels just to know the future.

He asked the Delphi Oracle a question; he wanted to know and asked of her this question Who is the wisest man in Greece?

this question he asked and this is what he was told: "Socrates is the wisest man in Greece", she yelled and wailed ;

for though she was a woman, flesh and blood like me and you, in her was a Goddess fierce and mighty.

Socrates when he heard of this was quite taken back by it.

For days he pondered and wondered why he was chosen to be the wisest man in Greece.

Then it suddenly hit him in flash greater than lightening, or a sound loader than a thunder clap,

why he was the wisest man of all.

It was because of all men he knew he was ignorant; the world is a vast and open place, but the universe is greater and much vaster;

Socrates was the wisest man in Greece because he knew he was ignorant.

we are all insignificant when we think of the vastness between the stars.

sometimes we know what we know, but it is the heart that speaks to us,

and when we love and are true

then we are no longer ignorant for we have listened to something greater than us and have given ourselves to it;

we have moved ever so slightly beyond our selfish desires and have listened to the heartand its understanding;

what is the hearts understanding of the world?

it is simple really, but here too I must use a word - to love in wonder and humility at the vastness and beauty of the world

A strain hunter will face any desert, any mountain, any ice cap just for love.

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Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day.

Dalai Lama shades_smile.gif

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Guest superbluehaze

Beauty, wonder, admiration stirs the heart to love.

When we love, we step out of ourselves and see the world clearly, as we are not trapped in the cave of our own selfish concerns, but step past them and see the world through wonder.

Plato, in his book The Republic , compared the search for knowledge to that of being in cave.

The occupants are sitting with a fire behind them in the cave and they are watching all the flickering shadows on the cave wall, but not seeing them for what they are(merely shadows, a reflection of a reflection) but are seeing them as being real and true.

Once personal realizes this and turns around to face the flames, and can see that what was thought to be real and true, can now be see as merely shadows cast on the cave wall by the flames of the fire.

The person then can see that there is a passage way and walks outside in this pursuit for truth.

The person walks outside the cave, and is blinded by the bright light of the sun, and then knows the truth.

What before was taken to be the real world were merely shadows cast on the cave wall by the flames, once outside of the cave, then they see the world in all its splendor and beauty and know the Good.

We do not have total freedom, but then nor are we totally determined; we have degrees of freedom.

Praise or blame can only be linked to what we do with what has been done to us.

In one way or another we are all victims of victims, for we all have suffered childhood trauma, even if it is only birth trauma,.

what makes us human is that we allow mystery, wonder and beauty to move our hearts to love.

We are human, the crucified ones; crucified between what it higher and what is lower.

Love is the force that transforms us; our only reason for being.

When we truly love, we are drawn out of ourselves, our inner states are found in another, the world.

We become what we are;

our nature is expressed through the values we affirm, and the choices we will make, and have made throughout our lives. When our humanity is expressed fully, then we are creatures that love and well on our way to being angels

All strain hunters(we all here are strain hunters, even if we buy our strains from a seed bank)) accepts what life brings to them, and does not become bitter or twisted by this suffering or its scars, but celibates love and beauty where ever we find it.

This is why we nurture and grow weed for because we love the plant deeply.

A strain hunter wil lrisk their freedom;

will face rocky mountains, jungles and the dangers that lay within them;

the desert, or snow and seething ice; even death, to find those special seeds that make the heart sing and dance.

blessed be fellow strain hunters

john

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Guest superbluehaze

thank you; it is my birthday today, but shhh

it is the best birthday gift I have ever had to share my words with you, fellow strain hunter

happy growing,

john

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Guest superbluehaze

"The sword is an inauspicious instrument to kill in some unavoidable circumstance. When it is to be used, therefore, it ought to be the sword that gives life and not the sword that kills.'

from Zen and Japanese culture

When death is inevitable then one must yield to it

this way it does not conquer you;

it simply takes you as it takes all of us one day.

One who is true will yield to nothing but love.

john

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Guest superbluehaze

" For the samurai to learn

there is one thing only - to face death unflinchingly"

Zen and japanese Culture:.

The weed loves her death she knows when it is coming

sun and the moon call to her

Hecate in the howling winds gathers at her feet.

She gives everything to it even her last drop of breath,

she gives lovingly and totally.

She bears the future and knows all things must pass,

when the sun is highest then we all laugh and sing

but the gathering dust that settles on the heart

tells us we must be smart about it

for our light burns dim.

To be true is love every second of life

and to leave for the future

some seeds to germinate.

For Arjan, his beautiful princess and the Haze 1

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  • 1 month later...
Guest superbluehaze

hi fellow Strain Hunters,

some thoughts on being a Strain Hunter and what it means:

An Atheist facing Death.

shadows running from the scorching light

this world is a lantern parade

we can only run in circles;

standing still

we must evade the light.

I long to express the intangible;

the unborn, the unmade, unsaid.

To form my heart into a womb

for the unborn;

a still point that transcends the space that enfolds it.

The whispers I wish to hear are yet to have been spoken, are silent,

beyond substance.

These ecstatic sighs ? remain just out of reach, lingering in the wind,

howling screams unimagined, uncreated.

I hunger for the inexpressible;

to craft this silence into words.

To glimpse through the bars of this prison cell,

to speak the illusive and inexpressible

and pin down these inner silences

that tear so at my being.

So I write, and my poised heart cries out,

as it strokes vague longings

intangible resolutions

that move through my experience of succession.

I look for another way

to hold reason and passion in tension.

To an outside that is beyond my grasp,

this outside that is inside me.

Inarticulate it moves beyond my grasp;

remaining beyond me;

Sitting outside me there in the world

That beats inside my chest.

Unresolved contradictions crowd in upon me

as I look towards a dark horizon

where shadows juxtapose dissimilar images

erasing the known.

These images intertwine into frightening shapes

forming reflections that are not one but many;

tearing myself from myself

I know this pale future laughs at my futile attempts

To avoid knowledge too painful to face.

Searching the world for beautiful metaphors will always be a self-depleting process;

What I find there is only insubstantial shadows

words or images

merely a woolly rug to place around the self;

something to protect against a cold unbearable contingency.

is it because I search only for the how of? things?

Should I simply take delight in existence

that something exists instead of nothing?

That the World is!

Love is the mystical made manifest.

And it is true at night in the darkness

under star light, and delicate moonlight

there are certainties;

encircling arms, embracing touch, the warmth of breath;

undeniable.

A Strain Hunter will bow to nothing but love, the mystical made manifest.

John (March 2010)

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  • 2 weeks later...
Guest superbluehaze

thank you tono240,

welcome to the forum,

I am a writer, a poet - and writers must write, or else they fade into the stillness of a blank page.

the world is but a dance of energy,

what to us is solid and firm

we know to be nothing but the void.

we are tiny compared to the stars;

the world mirrors our inner states,

our thoughts mirror

the world:

life is a mirrored maze

and so it becomes easy to smudge some outlines here and there,

so that our assumptions become cold facts.

when we nurture and cherish another living creature

we move beyond the self

and see the world illuminated by another light;

We marvel at its mystery, its sheer beauty.

to be a master is to be a slave,

the world is too big for us to understand completely,

the stars even larger

To be a master is to be a slave:

a servant of the heart, the Art!

A strain hunter is never a master

but always a lover;

a servant of the heart.

john

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  • 4 weeks later...
  • 1 month later...
Guest superbluehaze

thank you tokage;

For all Strainhunters

thanks Romeu and Jimmy; this poem was written in answer to you.

this art, this wonder, glimpse of another place,

beyond us, different yet it lives

just as we do;

a friend, an ally; for when life closes in upon you

and the lungs feel squeezed of air

she brings life, air;

this art at which none of us are perfect, though we wish to reach for the stars perfection is not our lot.

our love must remain outside of us

in wonder and acclaim for this wonderful mystery.

She is teacher, friend, and a fellow outlaw;

for we who have surrender our life to her

the art becomes an art devoted to her;

she is the queen of plants .

life is a struggle we all endure: all we love fades before our eyes;

we linger between the unknown and darkness

for where we come from we do not know;

where we will end up we do not know

and there she sits content to bathe in the light

reminding us it does not really matter.

she lives outside of time.

The light though does bring due tidings;

she loves it, accepts it, takes joy in it.

The weed loves her death .

she knows when it is coming

sun and the moon call to her

She gives everything willingly, lovingly and totally.

In her flowers is the future, lovingly caressed, gently formed.

In this shadow play all things must fade and pass,

when the sun is highest in life

then no-one will realize how swiftly the dust gathers and falls;

all laugh and sing,

but then the gathering gloom that settles on the heart

tells us

we must be smart about it for the light burns dim.

Unlike her, when we search the vastness we find only ourselves;

are doomed to be conscious only of self

even when we look outside ourselves into the eyes of another.

we chose ourselves and all else follows.

In a single moment,

we choose the world.

If we wish for freedom, it must be freedom for all;

This art, this wonder can never be taken for granted nor be mastered;

not that we wish for that

for there is only one mastery here and it is simple:

she is our teacher

we give her everything

she takes us to the stars

to a place outside of time, or to another dimension of time,

and our feet stay firmly on the earth.

She is beautiful beyond all measure, beyond words;

sacred, rare and alone.

john

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