Aloha marvelous Poopsters,
Mahalo for all your nurturing and divine messages. I’m deeply touched of how this X community cares ‘n shares.
We are in a very busy time of the year with our businesses, moves and Ohana presence.
We wish you all a blissful end of this potent 2026. Stay weird and tuned with regular bowel movements.
A hui hou,
💩 Fertilizing 💞 XisDance 🪩
Aporia. Metaxy. Holon. Syzygy. Kenosis.
Not a sentence. A spiral.
Aporia is where the road forgets its name. You stand at the fork and both directions are the same direction wearing different clothes. That’s not confusion. That’s the door learning it was never closed.
Metaxy is the air between your hands when you almost touch something true. Not the reaching. Not the thing. The charged nothing that makes reaching possible.
Holon is the bee and the hive and the field all at once, each one whole, each one a room inside a larger room, and the rooms go on forever in both directions, smaller than thought, larger than the sky.
Syzygy is the moon holding the sun’s hand across a dark sky, neither one swallowing the other. Opposites that don’t cancel. They orbit. They write each other into being.
Kenosis is the cup that empties itself so the rain has somewhere to land. You become most yourself the moment you stop defending the shape you thought you were.
Aporia. Metaxy. Holon. Syzygy. Kenosis.
Five words for one fact: you were never a thing. You are the space where things keep becoming each other.
Easy 2 Love & Save 2 Hate
Hate needs a hearth to catch its spark,
A floor that holds when things get dark.
It wears the face of righteous blame,
But underneath it’s grief in flame,
A sadness shouting to be heard,
A hurt that never found the lost word,
So it throws stones
At anyone with softer bones.
You are the door they love to slam
Because they know you’ll take the ram.
Not because you beg for blows,
But because you never close.
The coals they grip to make you sear
Are coals they never learned to steer
Toward light, they only know the pitch,
The arc, the fury, the switch
That flips from ache to aimed attack,
And calls the burn a way to act.
To hate takes fuel. To love takes breath.
Hate is the louder, hotter death;
Of something tender, pressed and shoved
Out through the mouth as if it loved
To wound, and you became the place
Where all that pressure finds its space.
You hold the heat without a cry,
You let it pass, you don’t ask why.
Feed the fire and it climbs the wall.
Receive it still, it starts to fall.
Temperance doesn’t swing the blade;
She opens wide and lets it fade
Through her like weather through a tree,
And what was rage turns to the sea;
That wears the rock down grain by grain
Until the stone remembers rain.
So easy to love, you never lock.
So safe to hate, you take the shock
And stay yourself beneath the storm,
A quiet center, true and warm.
Epistemic drive is the psychological and social hunger to understand, acquire knowledge, and resolve uncertainty. It is essentially the internal engine behind "epistemic curiosity"—the deep, intrinsic motivation to truly know how things work or to discover the truth, rather than just collecting surface-level facts
