@arscontexta Whole new category of knowledge+task management; I think of it as a ContextBase that forms the foundation for any LifeOS you design for yourself along with tools like Claude Code
@elonmusk hey dude we're hosting a Neuro-technology Hackathon and Pitch contest. Thinking of creative prize for winning team. Like video chat /w you. How about it? #neurotech#hackathon
Nothing new
Is added
Nothing more
Is made
All the waves motion
The vivid flowing facade
Says nothing of the ocean
But the view to be had
Appreciating all is as within
The same beauty to be seen
Through the infinite lenses
That form everything
By the eternal touch
Of the one light
What we do to be
What we always are
We will never know
It's a larger more intricate
Form of a mind
That enjoys the show
As we dance between dreams
Light and waves of thought
Collide and superpose
We are their locus
And from us, birthed a focus
More than any
More than anyone knows
The look of lonely people
Well dressed as they may be
The look of lonely people
Who are but what they see
In place of passion
They glimpse pain
In place of dawn
Evening's rain
As they brush past
Dressed in smiles and colors
The look of lonely people
Sees not all the lonely others
Seeds of sounds shared
Bloom in and between
With the meaning we give them
Hearing to listen, caring to glean
Sprouting roots in one another
Branches, uplift or smother our peers
Our wood, home to all manner
Of fleeting life, flowing through our ears
Not stardust as us,
Just words
"Actually," is said
Not often heard
"This," whisper by a tree
"Is," light flowing through the branches
"Everything," there for us to see
"That," feeling of beauty
"Is," joy of being a being
Of choice and duty
To always hold and cherish
"Life," till death
The silence between words
This mornings dew awaits the sun
Mayflys do not dread the morrow
The flowers of spring just begun
In the onset of winter, feel no sorrow
Art is made not doomed
By the last brushstroke
The idea is born then gone
When last it's spoke
This poem is whole, complete
For love of its end
As the world holds us
Multi-cellular organisms that we are
It's landscapes our fields
On which we wage our war and love
So too our mind-made personalities
Our multi-ideal selves wage their own
On landscapes of consciousness
Across a dimension we perceive
Whenever we look inside.
How abundant my words
Plucked fresh from the tree
Abundant as they are sweet
Pristine products of my earths
Thier claim to beauty
Marred by their lack of value
For the worth of a word
Is in the actions it births
And in nurturing through time
Do assist
In making human form persist
In and through all forms
Of light and shape
The first flame burns still
In the stars foremost
In water, air and breath
Finally in our force of will,
As the concentration
Of energy makes mass
So do we coalesce information
To structure purpose
From the utmost chaos
That is creation
Information
Through and through
The most significant non-thing
That forms what is true
All that was made is
All that is always only now
And so the wave moves time
On and on, on its bow
In the ever-making pace
Across the every possible space
To speak the words
Of the only odyssey.
My life is but days
These then filled by mine
Own hands and eyes
Given shape by the mind;
Coffee and the commute
A smile and a shrug
Friends, fools and fodder
All fluid and a drug
Learning and the lessons
Awakening and adrift
Poems, points and poverty
All crushing winds and lift
Should I have to crawl?
In that, I mean
Would that do to bring
Forward where we begin;
On my hands and knees
Tactile distance, leaving traces
Across flaws wide as oceans
Folly far and high as birds
Across the loud, crowded places
To grip Earth in my palms
Rising only in your arms
All points in themselves
Transcend towards a line
Lines to permeate the plane
A curtain folding
Form filling once again
The depth of our field
Another dimension to yield
As we must do in kind
In the folds of our mind
In the valleys and peaks of time
All circles hidden in the line
Our wishes fuel the future
Fulfilled by foresight
Coupled with the action
Which does so ignite
Burn today
To feed tomorrow
Burn the past
Burn joy or sorrow
Which were held so dear
Give what you treasure
For a chance, not for what is
But for the better
Lighting so the dark unknown
And our words
Are but the mortar and brick
With which we built
Our city of emerald towers;
Housing thoughts
Shielding whims from the wind
Given high perch
To admire our powers.
And in the flood
The architecture will do nothing
As silent birds we mocked
So effortlessly take flight