The Hermit's Journal Excerpts (November 14, 1990 - December 31, 1990)

November 14, 1990 Wednesday 1:37 PM

All this time wasted for nothing. The feelings, the rewards, the, hopes of giving back from whence you were given. The frustration of wanting so much more than what the world will allow.

November 19, 1990 Monday 8:31 PM

"Only by the coincidence of necessity does the show go on." mjm

November 22, 1990 Thursday 1:00 AM

(((((Treat printing like an echo.))))

The direction keys allow you to go places and do things. First up lower right position. Page down! You either go up or go down the string, going down is the natural order it happens in and a page is a standard chunk to deal in.

There is real joy in using the keyboard, just like the piano, it involves a fluid sequence.

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:45 AM

My strategy is to reach for the Windows software platform in preparation of the OS/2 that is sure to come.

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:35 PM

There is no magic, this is all there is to it.

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:40 PM

The keyboard is new and it feels very good. My mind is racing so...hard to find a place where the stone skips on the water.

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:45 PM

How do you make a macro happen in a single combination?

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:45 PM

November 23, 1990 Friday 11:55 PM

No one talks about the joy of making movement. The focus of controlling the expression, the orgasm of releasing to it. Releasing to the expression of movement. There is a high that comes from focusing your awareness on your movement, an exceptional clarity about what is and what is not within your reach.

November 25, 1990 Sunday 9:04 PM

My journal is meant to be a message, a message to you, that you cannot escape the influence--but you can influence back. To apply awareness, first you must see the fabric. To see the fabric, establish groups and then sequence. Grouping and sequence, are the very heart of our experience.

November 26, 1990 Monday 9:13 PM

Everywhere I go I translate reality into a reflection off of the exercise video. Why is this so important to me? Right now, even more so than the journal. It is because I have displaced my faith in ever seeing this ink come to earn its own. ((Even when you have it figured out it doesn't get any easier to live. Well maybe, but not much.))

Awash in a sea of electrons, almost always frozen in the reflection inside a mirrored ball, there come brief moments when the reflection disappears and all that lies beyond is visible.

Mike, you have to go with Windows with or without your current clients.

((((("Mike" is what I call my self but you better not try it.))))) he said with a wry grin, so intimate with himself that nothing of you could ever come between. (Not that it could even as strangers.)

November 26, 1990 Monday 9:43 PM

Don't be fooled--no matter how full life gets you still stand alone. There are those who eagerly turn away from their isolation, only to face life in their death. Nay, this must not be thee! Why? I know not 'cept for me. For me tis the matter in meaning, the fruition of feeling.

November 26, 1990 Monday 11:38 PM

"When never more can come a whisper...

November 27, 1990 Tuesday 10:34 AM

The next step is to automate the loading of one-key macros, knowing what you want is having the key to getting it; the other half is knowing how to get it.

November 28, 1990 Wednesday 2:57 PM

"Treat printing like an echo." This came from a sticky note that I wanted to be sure and enter into the journal. That along with "uniform block of data."

November 29, 1990 Thursday 4:52 PM

I've waited a long time for this--using Windows to switch from chosen application to chosen application. Follow the elephant through the jungle.

December 12, 1990 Wednesday 11:02 AM

The journal has suffered from my distractions elsewhere. Still it is the best retreat, retreat mind you because it is reflective at its best. The active listening, listening to hear the li'l old balloon man...whistling far and wee.

December 12, 1990 Wednesday 11:04 AM

The journal has stayed the same, only the environment has changed.

December 12, 1990 Wednesday 3:46 PM

I have been running far too long on the surface. It is time to dive! Time to slip into the cool depths of silent running.

(("Not hardly"))

December 12, 1990 Wednesday 3:48 PM

And what does run by in the cool midst running above the stream?

December 14, 1990 Friday 5:19 PM

What is "smarter" though? Smarter than what? How do you measure smartness?

You measure by the ability to process information.

December 14, 1990 Friday 5:42 PM

Money is like space. What matters is the size, the amount of either that you can utilize all at once. Like a program that takes 42 MEGS to load.

December 18, 1990 Tuesday 11:06 AM

So much to do, so many projects. Do you remember when there was nothing but things to do and no guidance? Now so many things demand attention. Relax. This is the week before Christmas. And then Christmas will be over and the new year and war will be our next horizon.

December 18, 1990 Tuesday 11:10 AM

Dates in a log really do have two meanings when relating to the content of a log. Not only, and usually, does it denote the time in which something was begun--it also denotes when a passage was at least completed. In other words, the stamp marks the end as well as the beginning.

December 18, 1990 Tuesday 11:18 AM

Much more than ever before the world is going to be a Windows world. Many who have avoided DOS will find it much harder to avoid Windows. Doesn't mean they won't try, and pay handsomely, but it does mean that what will be expected of the user will be more a matter of what they can integrate from multiple sources, i.e. spreadsheets, databases, word processors, etc., into a point of view that makes sense. ((And what I like about Ashton-Tate is their use of imagery to explain their implementation. ))

December 18, 1990 Tuesday 11:24 AM

So more than ever the pressure is on to process autonomously.

December 18, 1990 Tuesday 11:26 AM

((((I live so isolated, here in my cave
wondering if I'll ever be brave.
To live with a purpose, to make the past matter,
when will I

It 's been a long time since I've used this journal as a refreshing swim. Just laying it out there watching it pour out of me through my fingers to electrons on the screen. And Shift-F12 to save.

I've been so passionate about my life I've become lost in the passion and forgotten what I was about.

It seems people are constantly trying to stay alive, and their lives are their actions. What they do is what counts. What they do is based on who they think they are. And the rub comes in when you try to keep in mind who you think you are. Rarely does it seem that who you think you are, wish you could be, want to be, like to be, and really are--will, ever have much in common. And for a subject limited just to you it seems like you would never get very far trying to get to all come together. How do you balance them? Which ones do you make sure you keep in the air?

The steam engine of time drives the weaving machine of history.

(((((What good is it to be enlightened? The fish to walk on land?)))))

December 20, 1990 Thursday 3:46 PM

Now rest Mike. You need it , you really do need the rest. Be still and know that thou art god. Nurture your self. (((from the corner of my eye, I feel shame--shame for my lack of values. Shame for feeling so smug in living life the way I had it figured out, as though I had it figured out.)))

December 20, 1990 Thursday 3:55 PM

No matter what state she was in, and there could only be two--doing it his way rather than their own--she had of way of being unaware of her inability to escape her individuality other than by embracing the view of common mind.

December 20, 1990 Thursday 4:05 PM

It feels good having given your best

December 20, 1990 Thursday 4:12 PM

(((((We don't make clocks to track time, we make them to heighten our awareness of the moment.)))))

Object oriented is the same as autonomy, free, an identifiable chunk of stuff.

You stand alone when you trade blows with electrons--your only limitation--you! And the only thing standing between you and all that power is a concept. Either you understand the concept or you don't. Do you understand the wheel? Once you do all that remains is how good you are at making wheels. Remember, just you and electrons, toe to toe.

" make us more aware of the moment. Time flies. Time never comes in for a landing."

Hum, "Time never comes in for a landing!"

((((It's the concept, not the words that make up the meaning.)))))

Unmatched parens, unbalanced thought, lack of conclusively nesting.

December 20, 1990 Thursday 8:33 PM

Yes. . .through the test of time I have come to see my self better in some areas, where in others, I am still clueless.

Funny how as soon as I hear what I am saying and start thinking about it I lose the conversation. How does it feel when your will thrusts you upon the paper mercilessly?

Make a macro that inserts the word "(save)" formatted as hidden text and then do a save. At least for a while it would show someone how often I saved. Have the time and date stamp also enter into a database for analysis later. How often do you write, when do you write what kind of stuff? Where to look on the screen. You can see a lot on the screen, it helps to have a sense of knowing where to look. The character prompt in this regard is more obvious that a graphics interface.

December 20, 1990 Thursday 9:02 PM

Democracy is like a good body; it takes exercise to keep it fit. mjm 8:08 PM Humm, my time stamp is off by an hour and two minutes thirty fours seconds. How do you quickly change the system time from within Windows?

December 20, 1990 Thursday 9:06 PM

December 20, 1990 Thursday 9:12 PM

My next release of The Hermit's Journal, hummm. So much is happening, what felt OK yesterday, today is gone in a puff of smoke.

December 22, 1990 Saturday 8:40 PM

I only work out alone, with anyone else is a distraction. Your commitment is your own, or your lack of it.

Com' on Joe, get off it. If I'm gonna do my motion thing, it won't be duty that drives me. And the joy in the involvement just isn't there.

December 23, 1990 Sunday 12:05 PM

Inserts: If journaling is the easiest way and offers the most reward--why not anticipate rather than react?

An idea is a focal point upon which you can base action.

I wanna teach people how to teach themselves.

December 26, 1990 Wednesday 10:39 PM

So I haven't spelled it out in so long, maybe you are unaware of my strategy. I publish the hermit's journal in this, T.H.I.S., Inc. (The Hermit's Information Service) The journal has in it whatever the hermit decides to include from entries made in his log.

What I find difficult to do is hold on to the "why" that brought me "here". The pursuit of joy, the pursuit of being the best you could be, to return your best to others who had given you theirs.

The tough part of sharing what you write is taking the chance on sharing it with someone who finds it an intrusion. I guess that is why people charge for their writing. I know this sounds funny but I don't understand why others don't distribute more of what they want to communicate. Maybe no message, maybe no confidence, maybe no basis in reality.

You really do become your dreams. Looking back I am now what my dreams were then. (((set to music "I am now what my dreams were then."))) ...and I can't help starting to dream again.

About to publish, about to charge, about to begin keeping track.

In the old days, and by that I mean the late seventies, I had nothing I was obviously good at that could command a decent living. Actually, it would be more accurate that all my life I have always chosen to trust my feelings when push came to shove. Always searching for a meaning in my life that I could feel good about. Be proud of. See doing for the rest of my life. Living my life as though its going to end in the next six months. I seem to be reaching for that, striving for that, wishing for that, that this torture could not go on--that so much of what you care so deeply about is torn from your fingers bit by bit till slowly your very sanity, then consciousness, blows away like fine dust in the wind.

I come to this journal seeking to get my arms all the way around understanding. I am lucky to come away with my arms.

A flood of memories...such an image--a flood of memories, when memories flood do they have decernable currents? ((((()))))

And another thing about the notations found in my journal regarding the use of parens. Each set of parens is meant to indicate the level of awareness in which the entry was written. Fifth level is divinely inspired, where awareness becomes completely clear. As though only in unawareness is there any grist for the mill of self-awareness. (For the "miller" of self awareness.) So, yea, do you get crucified with this kind of stuff. Yep! You bet. That's why I've been so easy on pressing this out until there is enough to get the idea. After that, well...I'd like to spend my life under a sheltahut on the beach counting waves.

I don't think computers will make that much difference in who works for whom. By and large, the same people who intimidate now always will.

If you pursue pure joy, trusting blindly in your feelings while listening to your mind, you will find it. It will come like a butterfly on warm afternoons to visit the flowers all around you.

I got Christmas cards from people who are very special. Who remind me of my good parts. Who encourage me. ("Encouraged" sorta like "Enthused") To be filled with.

December 27, 1990 Thursday 10:19 PM

There is no...substitute for...the exercise of will. No reason to put silicon before carbon.

You know, I don't think we'll ever interpret life any differently than we always have. Challenging our limitations, making the dream come true just as surely as Uncle Sam collects taxes.

December 27, 1990 Thursday 10:41 PM

"Is there any hope for me? To make calm the inner yearning to be heard, the outer yearning to hear. To hear and be heard--somewhere there is a pinnacle of perspective. (("yes, i really like that"))

See there is nobody out there, I assume there is, I project like there is, but there is nobody out there. I wish there were; I choose to believe there are but each of us are lost in the intricacies of our experience. Strapped to the missile of will, shoulder blades pierced by the thrust of the rocket.

December 27, 1990 Thursday 10:58 PM

And you, yes you, you read these words and reach for understanding, you reach for meaning. What you seek you will find.

Campion is still very much with me, the promise of a tribe to pursue ideal. IGA market and privileges to go there. Fall leaves and frozen snot. Heartache. And all that time spent walking the rails listening, walking, will to walk right out of my self if I could, only I couldn't and it got so before I ever went on the walk I knew it wouldn't do any good, and yet I went anyway because I couldn't stay still.

Senior year, retreat and the people room, unguarded moments of being ourselves.

The park down by the river just west of town in the dead of winter or the warmth of late spring always a good walk, a good visit to the river, a visit that was always for the same purpose--to absorb the assurance that there was a flow to life, my situation was not stagnant.

December 27, 1990 Thursday 11:18 PM

Yes Campion, your mission is mine also. I am here to go beyond cashing in, to make my life one of contribution. I was afforded the luxury to pursue my own means of contribution and after sampling whatever I wanted I have come to here, to you, in this journal, a last ditch desperate effort to leave the best of what I have to offer.

Mar, you are still here, inside me, standing beside me. And in that unity I also remember a mountain top view of Canyon City where I stood in cold wind and refused to belief that true love could not come through. Well it hasn't, and the world has gone on by, leaving us with memories of what happened and wistful of what might have been. It is years later, so many years later you would think I would have made light of it by now. But I haven't.

Still I have felt lost, so far from headings I seemed so sure of just a few years ago. It never stops, you make it up as you go along, pain gauges how you are doing, or how you have done. The wake of experience is what kills you!

December 27, 1990 Thursday 11:29 PM

The letter comes to you by virtue of your presence in my database and a feeling that is in some way you have contributed to my life in times now past. I want to say thank you for your caring, for your sharing, and for the smile I get when I see your name on the envelope as it comes out of the laserjet.

Last year I taught for college credit, published a thesis (not my own), passed off my mild involvement with karate as my excuse for body work. I've been hiding out on the body side, content to makes ends meet with electrons.

December 29, 1990 Saturday 11:39 AM

I will be talking a lot about autonomous personal computing and your relationship to the IRS. It, like everything else, is going into electrons. The connection. The way it gets done and as with everything in the new way of doing things, you are the one stuck with doing it. Only the really rich will afford to have others do their information processing in electrons. (You could re-phrase that and say only the really stupid.)

December 29, 1990 Saturday 11:44 AM

Whatever it is that I am, is subordinate to the god-within, and the god-within demands a connection, demands accountability. Joy, the compass of life, will never steer you wrong. But you must seek joy to find it. Those who choose not to, express the ultimate tragedy.

December 31, 1990 Monday 12:07 PM

A lazy day, a lazy way, home with your true love ignoring laundry, dishes and errands.

December 31, 1990 Monday 12:32 PM

Consciousness is global, awareness unique.

December 31, 1990 Monday 12:33 PM

Who do I what to be? Why am I here? What is the quality of my effort? (((You notice that first person singular is non sexist--why do you suppose that is?)))

December 31, 1990 Monday 12:35 PM

Mom and Dad, unqualified love. Brother and sisters, a closenit group, and the rest of the experience a splashed collage of colors.

Peering into the screen, past all the clutter in my workspace, there is a chance to focus. A chance to listen hard enough to your self that you hear something. And then, if you are lucky, you feel the joy of watching your fingers chisel out the sequence, and the sequence losses all significance other than its presence is the thrust of the immediate embrace of fingers on the keys.