The sixth chakra is about perception, clarity of vision and thinking, and psychic ability. It is where we store and interpret our memories, perceive our dreams, and imagine our future. The New Year is a great time to visualize the year (and years) ahead. A lot of change is coming. The economy is shifting, we'll have a new president in three weeks, and many of us are not satisfied with going about our days in a "business as usual" fashion. Let's use this time to visualize and shape a better future.
xo,
Holly
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Western Christmas Morning 2008
Sitting on the couch, having coffee and listening to Lee Hazelwood with my honey.
I feel like starting a macrame project. Orange and brown.
The wind is howling outside, snow whipping all over the bloody place, obscuring mountains - and - the path to the compost heap.
It's very western nevertheless, craggy ragged plain of earth at the foothills of the San Francisco peaks. The house trembles.
Oh, what a nice guitar sound.
Dreamed of my middle-school* again. TJ was there. I went to speak before a large audience about something, then decided not to. I was wearing overalls, but no shirt. The principal** didn't know what to say.
Maybe it's a dream about how I was sexualized as a child while I attended that school.
Yesterday, in my dream, I was riding a bicycle behind the school, through marshy grass and puddles. I was looking at tattoo designs. There were no boys in the dream, only hip women.
I miss moisture. Yes, it's been humid here, in the form of a blizzard; we're having our third snowstorm in a row.
Randy has never heard Lee Hazelwood before. He just said, "He's like a cross between Neil Diamond, Willy Nelson - whose that folk singer that I hate? - oh yeah, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan and a little David Allen Coe sprinkled on top. It's brilliant."
Guess I can't linger about the snow. It's here, and probably will be for the next 4 months. It's too windy to even shovel. We're looking at gusts up to 55 mph.
This music is making me feel like I'm riding on a horse into a Tucson sunset, orange red sky, silhouettes of sujaro cacti, a margarita in my hand, just a slight breeze on my warm skin.
The first time I drove toward Phoenix (toward Tucson)since I've been here was in August 2007. I came around a long bend and the landscape exploded green and red with napoles cacti, plump and heavy with swollen prickly pear fruit. I began to weep.
* Woodglen School - Glen Gardener, NJ
** Dr. Deibert
Friday, December 19, 2008
Louis Armstrong Vs.Prejudice.
The Great Civil rights leaders. Martin Luther King jr. Rosa Parks, Malclom X and Louis Armstrong.
Louis (Pronounced Louie) Armstrong , Satchmo, Ambassador Satch, Satch Armstrong , Dipper mouth... Not a civil rights leader????????
Well, I disagree. He never had to say a word, compose a speech or protest.
Armstrong started busting down the walls of prejudice back in the 1920's with a very clean , very melodic and joyous trumpet and a great big smile . Not to mention his smiling eyes and that gravely voice. What a character and such a powerful musician.
Check out this video, I'm sorry I couldn’t find a shorter version of it, but it's from a movie . I didn’t post it... I want you all to notice how Mr. Armstrong is dressed. They put him in African leopard skin a-la Fred Flintstone, with an African tribal theme. Do you think this is degrading? Whether you do or you don't , listen to the horn, listen how he defies that garb, listen to the dignity and how he just simply rises above it, he shines right through it!!!
It sounded like the man was wearing a tuxedo !!!!! And as you can see from the next video , Mr Armstrong was indeed wearing a tuxedo.
The first black man many people in this country have ever seen in a suit and tie. He blow that horn precisely and blew people's minds and blew down the walls that existed in peoples minds, the barriers of the mind! He was indeed a pre-requisite to the civil rights movement, before Miles Davis , Before John Coltrane before Dizzy and Count Basie, well, contemporary with Count Basie in some respect. He was a Jackie Robinson before there was a Jackie Robinson. .......
A civil rights leader who spoke with notes on a trumpet!
That jungle outfit (and the soap bubbles ?) just didn’t work.
P.S. Gangsta Rap is a government conspiracy to keep the black man down!
But you can't keep a GOOD MAN DOWN!
Louis (Pronounced Louie) Armstrong , Satchmo, Ambassador Satch, Satch Armstrong , Dipper mouth... Not a civil rights leader????????
Well, I disagree. He never had to say a word, compose a speech or protest.
Armstrong started busting down the walls of prejudice back in the 1920's with a very clean , very melodic and joyous trumpet and a great big smile . Not to mention his smiling eyes and that gravely voice. What a character and such a powerful musician.
Check out this video, I'm sorry I couldn’t find a shorter version of it, but it's from a movie . I didn’t post it... I want you all to notice how Mr. Armstrong is dressed. They put him in African leopard skin a-la Fred Flintstone, with an African tribal theme. Do you think this is degrading? Whether you do or you don't , listen to the horn, listen how he defies that garb, listen to the dignity and how he just simply rises above it, he shines right through it!!!
It sounded like the man was wearing a tuxedo !!!!! And as you can see from the next video , Mr Armstrong was indeed wearing a tuxedo.
The first black man many people in this country have ever seen in a suit and tie. He blow that horn precisely and blew people's minds and blew down the walls that existed in peoples minds, the barriers of the mind! He was indeed a pre-requisite to the civil rights movement, before Miles Davis , Before John Coltrane before Dizzy and Count Basie, well, contemporary with Count Basie in some respect. He was a Jackie Robinson before there was a Jackie Robinson. .......
A civil rights leader who spoke with notes on a trumpet!
That jungle outfit (and the soap bubbles ?) just didn’t work.
P.S. Gangsta Rap is a government conspiracy to keep the black man down!
But you can't keep a GOOD MAN DOWN!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Check out NaNoWritMo!!!
hey folks, November is National Novel Writing Month. Check out NaNoWritMo. It's a website that encourages people to just keep writing everyday for the month of November. is there a book that you have always wanted to write, or do you want to just show up everyday and see where the adventure unfolds.
There is no editing, thinking too much, or even re reading your work. Keep the judgement out of it, as you allow yourself a brain drain every day for the month. The goal is 50,000 words by the end (aprox 1,500 to 1,700 words a day) That's about 3 or 4 pages depending on how you set up your fonts.
join in! Writing begins Nov 1. Even if you think you can't do it, do it anyway!!!
happy writing,
Chris
There is no editing, thinking too much, or even re reading your work. Keep the judgement out of it, as you allow yourself a brain drain every day for the month. The goal is 50,000 words by the end (aprox 1,500 to 1,700 words a day) That's about 3 or 4 pages depending on how you set up your fonts.
join in! Writing begins Nov 1. Even if you think you can't do it, do it anyway!!!
happy writing,
Chris
Complete and Whole
Today is the new moon. A calm settles upon me because I take a moment to remember. I hear a sound in the distance, like music, strange, but it sounds like a Native American flute. I don’t know exactly how that sound is happening in New York at this moment, but I am grateful for it.
I remember that music as I read Tarot at Altar Egos on Housten Street. Or in the wellness massage room at the New York Open Center. I hear myself and Holly trying out flutes at Marions after a sweat lodge. I think of the hot stones glowing in the lodge, and of pipe ceremony.
I am whole.
I call to the elements again. I’ve been making it a daily practice now since the spring. The vibration is getting stronger, deeper. Like a yoga practice, when after sometime, I can make friends with a pose. It’s always been there, I just feel it deeper.
I am complete.
I take a moment to remember the spirits that guide me, and the ancestors who have gone before me, and even my own soul; that light that people sometimes call Buddha consciousness.
I am whole.
I remember my initiation. I remember the path that I am on, and the gifts that I have.
I am complete.
Funny how easily I can forget these things in the crush of a subway, on a job where people are acting as if it’s reality TV, with a friend that is drinking too much, or a lover who is cooling off and rejecting me.
Yet, all it takes is a moment to connect to who I truly am, and nothing else matters.
I remember that music as I read Tarot at Altar Egos on Housten Street. Or in the wellness massage room at the New York Open Center. I hear myself and Holly trying out flutes at Marions after a sweat lodge. I think of the hot stones glowing in the lodge, and of pipe ceremony.
I am whole.
I call to the elements again. I’ve been making it a daily practice now since the spring. The vibration is getting stronger, deeper. Like a yoga practice, when after sometime, I can make friends with a pose. It’s always been there, I just feel it deeper.
I am complete.
I take a moment to remember the spirits that guide me, and the ancestors who have gone before me, and even my own soul; that light that people sometimes call Buddha consciousness.
I am whole.
I remember my initiation. I remember the path that I am on, and the gifts that I have.
I am complete.
Funny how easily I can forget these things in the crush of a subway, on a job where people are acting as if it’s reality TV, with a friend that is drinking too much, or a lover who is cooling off and rejecting me.
Yet, all it takes is a moment to connect to who I truly am, and nothing else matters.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
talk about an open 5th chakra!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4vsLfejdBQ
Check out the link above. This video makes me want to sing again!
Check out the link above. This video makes me want to sing again!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Is it always possible to know what we're doing?
I learn by making mistakes. Without risk there's no evolution.
Yet, the precautionary principle (http://www.precaution.org/lib/pp_def.htm) is a sound one. Is Russian Roulette wise? Is it always possible to know what we're doing? What are the consequences of my posting this entry?
Tonight, at 12:30 AM, Wed, September 10, the world's biggest supercollider (CERN) will attempt a Big Bang experiment. Mini black holes are expected to be created.
No one knows what will result from this. Yet, a couple of scientists filed unsuccessful lawsuits to stop this experiment because they believe it's possible the black holes could ultimately eat up our Earth. Another concern is that should time travelers exist, the experiment could trap them as they move backward from the future. We simply don't know what to expect.
Check out Jonathan Zap's, "Could This Be Our Last Day on Earth?" at http://tinyurl.com/6ly9yr. Here's an excerpt:
"Perhaps this will be the moment when you really can create your own reality, and therefore those who truly believe in CERN, who truly believe that only through CERN can one enter the kingdom of heaven, those chosen few will be raptured away from the Babylon Matrix via CERN-
generated time and space wormholes, while all those who did not get this email, or those who got this email but held onto a doubt the size of a mustard seed, will be left behind in the Babylon Matrix where absolutely nothing will be new on Wednesday . . . ."
Yet, the precautionary principle (http://www.precaution.org/lib/pp_def.htm) is a sound one. Is Russian Roulette wise? Is it always possible to know what we're doing? What are the consequences of my posting this entry?
Tonight, at 12:30 AM, Wed, September 10, the world's biggest supercollider (CERN) will attempt a Big Bang experiment. Mini black holes are expected to be created.
No one knows what will result from this. Yet, a couple of scientists filed unsuccessful lawsuits to stop this experiment because they believe it's possible the black holes could ultimately eat up our Earth. Another concern is that should time travelers exist, the experiment could trap them as they move backward from the future. We simply don't know what to expect.
Check out Jonathan Zap's, "Could This Be Our Last Day on Earth?" at http://tinyurl.com/6ly9yr. Here's an excerpt:
"Perhaps this will be the moment when you really can create your own reality, and therefore those who truly believe in CERN, who truly believe that only through CERN can one enter the kingdom of heaven, those chosen few will be raptured away from the Babylon Matrix via CERN-
generated time and space wormholes, while all those who did not get this email, or those who got this email but held onto a doubt the size of a mustard seed, will be left behind in the Babylon Matrix where absolutely nothing will be new on Wednesday . . . ."
Answers from my Energetic Body
What is wisdom?
There is a yang and there is a yin. There is peace and there is war. There is sadness and there is happiness. There is water and there is fire. There is wisdom and there is ignorance. Intelligence is being able to make the wise choice.And ignorance is either having the wisdom and ignoring it or not having the information at all in the first place enough to make a wise choice. I will vote for Barack Obama and Joe Biden on Nov 4th.
Think of a time when you didn't keep your word. Describe how it felt in your body.
I exchanged a 200$ life coaching session for a 200$ painting.
The person never got therir painting but the person instead received many gifts.
Gifts of art for her walls from yours truly , none of which are actually paintings in the technical sense. So how does this feel in my body? Well, if feel it in my chest, an empty cavity that can only be filled by out ward doing, by action and focus.
I owe her. The life coaching thing is a kind of a scam. Too much money!!! But it was worth checking out.
What are your fears in speaking out? Where in your body do you feel them?
I will speak out with out fear at any time.
There might be a time where I elect not to say anything but it is not out of fear.
In my town some kids want there to be built a “skate park” I was dead against it right away, we don’t need concrete poured or asphalt tarred into a park land filled with grass and trees by a river.
There is a meeting about the skate park and there will be teenage kids there, one of them is my friend's son.
Am I afraid to speak up? No, I feel that a park by a river is a park by a river and a skate park will invite litter and possibly kill trees , and displace geese and definatly kill grass in order for it to be built. I’m against this idea, but I will say nothing. I will not attend the meeting. Not out of fear but because these kids are actually flyering to have this done. They want a place of their own instead of getting hassled by cops and “grinding” their bikes and skates all over public property, which by the way does’nt bother me at all.
I’m not afraid, I just feel like , let them have it, fuck it , there’s an up side to it. The up side is that these kids might grow to appreciate wilderness allittle more having spent more time in a park by the river doing something they love.
There is no up side to a mccain presidency, not one. nothing
How do I hear the world? I hear the world visually. I am currently memorizing my lyrics for a show and jam session in Rhoad Island. I have many wonderful , imaginative and funny songs. How I hear the world is reflected in my lyrics and guitar playing. I love the sounds of nature, thunder, birds, rain, even wind chimes and little children playing. I hate the sounds of industry, leaf blowers, weed wackers, chainsaws digging deep into my heart as a beautiful tree is murdered , dentist drills , techno “music” and that goddamn fucking piece of crap streetsweeper that has woken me up three times this summer at 4 AM. The yang and the yin are within me, I love deeply and hate just as deeply.
There is a yang and there is a yin. There is peace and there is war. There is sadness and there is happiness. There is water and there is fire. There is wisdom and there is ignorance. Intelligence is being able to make the wise choice.And ignorance is either having the wisdom and ignoring it or not having the information at all in the first place enough to make a wise choice. I will vote for Barack Obama and Joe Biden on Nov 4th.
Think of a time when you didn't keep your word. Describe how it felt in your body.
I exchanged a 200$ life coaching session for a 200$ painting.
The person never got therir painting but the person instead received many gifts.
Gifts of art for her walls from yours truly , none of which are actually paintings in the technical sense. So how does this feel in my body? Well, if feel it in my chest, an empty cavity that can only be filled by out ward doing, by action and focus.
I owe her. The life coaching thing is a kind of a scam. Too much money!!! But it was worth checking out.
What are your fears in speaking out? Where in your body do you feel them?
I will speak out with out fear at any time.
There might be a time where I elect not to say anything but it is not out of fear.
In my town some kids want there to be built a “skate park” I was dead against it right away, we don’t need concrete poured or asphalt tarred into a park land filled with grass and trees by a river.
There is a meeting about the skate park and there will be teenage kids there, one of them is my friend's son.
Am I afraid to speak up? No, I feel that a park by a river is a park by a river and a skate park will invite litter and possibly kill trees , and displace geese and definatly kill grass in order for it to be built. I’m against this idea, but I will say nothing. I will not attend the meeting. Not out of fear but because these kids are actually flyering to have this done. They want a place of their own instead of getting hassled by cops and “grinding” their bikes and skates all over public property, which by the way does’nt bother me at all.
I’m not afraid, I just feel like , let them have it, fuck it , there’s an up side to it. The up side is that these kids might grow to appreciate wilderness allittle more having spent more time in a park by the river doing something they love.
There is no up side to a mccain presidency, not one. nothing
How do I hear the world? I hear the world visually. I am currently memorizing my lyrics for a show and jam session in Rhoad Island. I have many wonderful , imaginative and funny songs. How I hear the world is reflected in my lyrics and guitar playing. I love the sounds of nature, thunder, birds, rain, even wind chimes and little children playing. I hate the sounds of industry, leaf blowers, weed wackers, chainsaws digging deep into my heart as a beautiful tree is murdered , dentist drills , techno “music” and that goddamn fucking piece of crap streetsweeper that has woken me up three times this summer at 4 AM. The yang and the yin are within me, I love deeply and hate just as deeply.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wake Up!
Thanks, Anna, for sharing this. I had to post because I love Dennis, too!
I remember the last time the Democrats were in power - I was able to afford my rent in NYC and still had time to hang out in cafes and talk to other artists and musicians, and to work, and to go to school, and have band rehearsal and play gigs, and have time for my boyfriend - without going into debt!
What the freak happened? I feel like all I ever do is work now. I've had a rude awakening these last few weeks - I realize my 40 hour a week job has turned into almost 60 hours a week and I am still unable to get all of my work done. What makes matters worse, what I do for money is not my passion.
I love writing and singing and hiking and biking and having meaningful realtionships with people, I love doing and teaching yoga, and painting, and gardening, and learning about nutrition and herbs. I love practical magic. I make a few extra dollars with yoga and herbs, and sometimes even with my writing and art - but I have got to make that leap. Work eats up most of my day, and lately, my evenings, too. I get up at 5 am to write before my energy gets sucked up at the job.
I know if I keep moving on, it will all turn out. Right now I am impatient and fed up with the amount of work I have to do. I am also fed up with this general malaise that seems to have blanketed our nation.
What next? I guess this is a 5th chakra question now (you'll be getting the 5th chakra info either today or tomorrow). WHAT NEXT?
Friday, August 22, 2008
love energy = pure power
What keeps you in the present moment?
What keeps me in the present moment is the basket of a hot air balloon called the N.O.W. which is an acrynum for “no Other Way”.
Describe a time when you went against conventional wisdom, against society's idea of what is "right", to follow your heart.
Yesturday I wore one black sock and one white sock all day long….One on each hand !!Oh!!!
What do I like?
I like them chocolate bon bons they sell at Trader joes.
What do I love? I love Trader Joes. Every one there is so friendly! And it’s always a very pleasant shopping experience. Big supermarkets like Path Mark Shp Rite and Kings are so impersonal, they don’t care about you at all. But at T.J.’s the world is a place woth shopping at! excellent wines and breads and canned meats for my kitty kat!
What makes me happy?
Shopping, basically, and attention. getting lot’s of it. And more shopping.
What do I need for balance?
Equal Librium and plenty of it!
What are my strengths?
I can lift a car over my head and throw it about 50 feet. One of them little match box cars that is! Oh!
Can I rely upon myself?
No, I am interdependent on other members of my own species and some members of other species as well.
What are my weaknesses? Kryptonite!!!! defiantly!Especially cherry flavored kryptonite!
Why do I do the things I do? Because I’m a maniac!!!! A real , whacko! And I love it! Why else would I even bother trying to land a beach ball on a basket ball hoop with a whiffle ball bat while riding a bicycle and while wearing two different colored socks …..On my hands?
Each of life's challenges is a lesson in some aspect of love. C.M.
I agree with the quote above. This C.M. chick knows what's goin on.
What does it feel like to completely accept yourself?
I feels really realizational to completely accept that idea , that concept, that elusive greased pig we know as the self. Or my self, a case of mistaken identity, as Alan Watts stated in the book title .
Thank You for all them qestions, It is great to write and think about them,
now I have a question for all of you! send it to your friends!:
What keeps me in the present moment is the basket of a hot air balloon called the N.O.W. which is an acrynum for “no Other Way”.
Describe a time when you went against conventional wisdom, against society's idea of what is "right", to follow your heart.
Yesturday I wore one black sock and one white sock all day long….One on each hand !!Oh!!!
What do I like?
I like them chocolate bon bons they sell at Trader joes.
What do I love? I love Trader Joes. Every one there is so friendly! And it’s always a very pleasant shopping experience. Big supermarkets like Path Mark Shp Rite and Kings are so impersonal, they don’t care about you at all. But at T.J.’s the world is a place woth shopping at! excellent wines and breads and canned meats for my kitty kat!
What makes me happy?
Shopping, basically, and attention. getting lot’s of it. And more shopping.
What do I need for balance?
Equal Librium and plenty of it!
What are my strengths?
I can lift a car over my head and throw it about 50 feet. One of them little match box cars that is! Oh!
Can I rely upon myself?
No, I am interdependent on other members of my own species and some members of other species as well.
What are my weaknesses? Kryptonite!!!! defiantly!Especially cherry flavored kryptonite!
Why do I do the things I do? Because I’m a maniac!!!! A real , whacko! And I love it! Why else would I even bother trying to land a beach ball on a basket ball hoop with a whiffle ball bat while riding a bicycle and while wearing two different colored socks …..On my hands?
Each of life's challenges is a lesson in some aspect of love. C.M.
I agree with the quote above. This C.M. chick knows what's goin on.
What does it feel like to completely accept yourself?
I feels really realizational to completely accept that idea , that concept, that elusive greased pig we know as the self. Or my self, a case of mistaken identity, as Alan Watts stated in the book title .
Thank You for all them qestions, It is great to write and think about them,
now I have a question for all of you! send it to your friends!:
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Forgive not forget.
Forgiveness. Not the same as Forgetness. There is "Forgive and Forget" for some, but I may forgive and NOT forget.
There's this guy I know. He decided to knock me down and shove me around the school grounds when I was about 15.
Later in life, although he is older than me, we started hanging out in the same party circles. I had actually forgoten the whole inncident, I actually liked the guy later on, but he never treated me like I was his peer. I did'nt care that much.
But I wondered why and then I began to remember what had happened, you see, the good ol boy I was hangin with that day gave this dude the finger and called him a ginny or something like that, It was'nt me, I was innocent, but the guy decided to attack me and shove me around, not even letting me stand up. The reason, because the good ol boy who I was hangin with that day had a brother who had all the good pot in town and so , instead of going to the sorce of the insult, he took it out on me.
Stupid huh? Well, I had forgoten it and did'nt care anymore when we turned out to have many mutual friends years later, but he himself never forgot it and so he could'nt fully bond with me. To this day I don't care, all was forgiven and almost forgotten, but he did'nt let me forget I would have forgotten but He never forgave himself, no big deal. It was stupid young teenage crap.
I being a non pot smoker, have quite a mememory, People who've done me wrong have their own bad karma they put on themselves, I know who they are and It frees me to forgive, but i never forget.
There's this guy I know. He decided to knock me down and shove me around the school grounds when I was about 15.
Later in life, although he is older than me, we started hanging out in the same party circles. I had actually forgoten the whole inncident, I actually liked the guy later on, but he never treated me like I was his peer. I did'nt care that much.
But I wondered why and then I began to remember what had happened, you see, the good ol boy I was hangin with that day gave this dude the finger and called him a ginny or something like that, It was'nt me, I was innocent, but the guy decided to attack me and shove me around, not even letting me stand up. The reason, because the good ol boy who I was hangin with that day had a brother who had all the good pot in town and so , instead of going to the sorce of the insult, he took it out on me.
Stupid huh? Well, I had forgoten it and did'nt care anymore when we turned out to have many mutual friends years later, but he himself never forgot it and so he could'nt fully bond with me. To this day I don't care, all was forgiven and almost forgotten, but he did'nt let me forget I would have forgotten but He never forgave himself, no big deal. It was stupid young teenage crap.
I being a non pot smoker, have quite a mememory, People who've done me wrong have their own bad karma they put on themselves, I know who they are and It frees me to forgive, but i never forget.
Friday, August 1, 2008
I celebrate myself
I walk down a forest path. It is beautiful and lush, and a total pleasure. The road is wide and welcoming. Down to the left is a stream with bubbling water. I am one with nature. I feel welcome here.
Up ahead, I see a golden being. He is glowing, peaceful and bright. I get closer, but there are no distinctive features, except his eyes, and a sense of friendliness and love. It is me. It is my golden self, my highest self, and it feel really good to be around him. It is healing. I know myself to be this golden being. I am remembering myself as this being. I embrace him and he once again becomes part of me.
I should remember to do this often.
Another being is coming towards me. He’s presence on the road is intimidating. It’s almost as if he’s playing chicken with me. He is a black being. And even with out getting too close, I recognize him as me as well. I speak to him, greet him, and he is suspicious.
“It’s me” I say. He spits on the ground. I’m not sure what to do with him. We do eventually get closer. He is so angry. There are tears in his eyes. I say, “this is hard, but I need you. I know I do.”
He reaches out his hand. I go to shake his hand, but he grabs my arm with both hands. Screams in my face and throws himself into my body. I’m a little shocked and thrilled.
Damn. What is that about?
Up ahead, I see a golden being. He is glowing, peaceful and bright. I get closer, but there are no distinctive features, except his eyes, and a sense of friendliness and love. It is me. It is my golden self, my highest self, and it feel really good to be around him. It is healing. I know myself to be this golden being. I am remembering myself as this being. I embrace him and he once again becomes part of me.
I should remember to do this often.
Another being is coming towards me. He’s presence on the road is intimidating. It’s almost as if he’s playing chicken with me. He is a black being. And even with out getting too close, I recognize him as me as well. I speak to him, greet him, and he is suspicious.
“It’s me” I say. He spits on the ground. I’m not sure what to do with him. We do eventually get closer. He is so angry. There are tears in his eyes. I say, “this is hard, but I need you. I know I do.”
He reaches out his hand. I go to shake his hand, but he grabs my arm with both hands. Screams in my face and throws himself into my body. I’m a little shocked and thrilled.
Damn. What is that about?
Friday, July 18, 2008
The box
The box is a little exercise that is taught at corporate workshops by motivational speakers.
Here’s how it works. You draw a box with 9 dots, like so:
* * *
* * * Oops graphics a funky here, spread these dots out
* * * into a box
Now, you need to draw 4 straight lines that go through all 9 dots, with out lifting the pen.
DON’T READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU WISH TO FIGURE THIS GAME OUT ON YOUR OWN…THE ANSWER WILL BE REVEILED!
I learned the box in a workshop called Lifespring, which is like EST or the Forum, basically workshops designed to suck you dry of all finances, and brain wash you into getting as many of your friends and family involved as possible, under the guise of self improvement.
The leader of the workshop drew out the dots and asked us to try and draw the 4 straight lines with out lifting the pen that went through all the dots.
Eventually I got up and did this….
. :
2 . :
* * *
. 4 :
* * . *
. . : 1 Sorry folks I tired to add graphics
. . * . * . *
3
(draw a line up the right side and out of the box, then a diagnal line hitting the top second dot and first dot of the second line and extended out of the box as well, then a line across the bottom, and finally a diganal line hitting the ramaining dots.)
You have to go beyond the box of 9 dots to be able hit them all…thus “think outside the box.” It’s about creative problem solving.
Well, the leader was pissed off. She grilled me and insisted that I had done the exercise before. I didn’t, I just figured it out, cause I’m a fucking genius!
Here’s how it works. You draw a box with 9 dots, like so:
* * *
* * * Oops graphics a funky here, spread these dots out
* * * into a box
Now, you need to draw 4 straight lines that go through all 9 dots, with out lifting the pen.
DON’T READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU WISH TO FIGURE THIS GAME OUT ON YOUR OWN…THE ANSWER WILL BE REVEILED!
I learned the box in a workshop called Lifespring, which is like EST or the Forum, basically workshops designed to suck you dry of all finances, and brain wash you into getting as many of your friends and family involved as possible, under the guise of self improvement.
The leader of the workshop drew out the dots and asked us to try and draw the 4 straight lines with out lifting the pen that went through all the dots.
Eventually I got up and did this….
. :
2 . :
* * *
. 4 :
* * . *
. . : 1 Sorry folks I tired to add graphics
. . * . * . *
3
(draw a line up the right side and out of the box, then a diagnal line hitting the top second dot and first dot of the second line and extended out of the box as well, then a line across the bottom, and finally a diganal line hitting the ramaining dots.)
You have to go beyond the box of 9 dots to be able hit them all…thus “think outside the box.” It’s about creative problem solving.
Well, the leader was pissed off. She grilled me and insisted that I had done the exercise before. I didn’t, I just figured it out, cause I’m a fucking genius!
What is the box and why are people trying to think outside of it?
Example one;
Example two;
Example three;
Example four;
Example two;
Example three;
Example four;
Monday, July 14, 2008
Belly Laugh
I’m trying to remember. It is usually with Jen that I have a deep laugh. And it’s usually about a pussy that we're laughing about. Was that the deep belly laugh.?
The last time I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to die was with Jen. We were at Dany's standing by her living room window. I was telling her about my brothers and sister saying what things belong to them when Mom dies. My sister said something about the dishes. My brother wants the silver rimmed crystal that were my grandmothers.
Jen must have said something like, did they really say that shit at a holiday dinner, and we went off on a deep laugh. I couldn’t breath and I thought that I was going to die for sure. The thought passed my mind, “I can’t breathe. Oh my god, I am really going to die right now, I’m going to die laughing!!”
I know that I’ve had some good laughs with her since, and they are usually about our pussy joke. We do this totally stupid thing that makes us laugh. We call each other up singing songs to each other, but replace a key word with "pussy", or sometimes "cock". For example, "OH PUSSY, YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY COCK, HEY PUSSY!" It makes us laugh hysterically. Others? Not so much. Guess pussy/cock humor is an acquired taste.
But this other time, we had just come out of the movie "No Country for Old Men". We were talking about how they had absolutely no music in the film.
Jen insisted that there was something. I said, “maybe a strum of a guitar and a poohweeoohweeooh” and at the exact moment we passed a dog poohing! Forget it, we just totally lost it. Now, we sometimes just say poohieeoooohieeeooooooo! Like an old cowboy movie, or…a dog shitting. This still makes me laugh, even as I write it.
The last time I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to die was with Jen. We were at Dany's standing by her living room window. I was telling her about my brothers and sister saying what things belong to them when Mom dies. My sister said something about the dishes. My brother wants the silver rimmed crystal that were my grandmothers.
Jen must have said something like, did they really say that shit at a holiday dinner, and we went off on a deep laugh. I couldn’t breath and I thought that I was going to die for sure. The thought passed my mind, “I can’t breathe. Oh my god, I am really going to die right now, I’m going to die laughing!!”
I know that I’ve had some good laughs with her since, and they are usually about our pussy joke. We do this totally stupid thing that makes us laugh. We call each other up singing songs to each other, but replace a key word with "pussy", or sometimes "cock". For example, "OH PUSSY, YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY COCK, HEY PUSSY!" It makes us laugh hysterically. Others? Not so much. Guess pussy/cock humor is an acquired taste.
But this other time, we had just come out of the movie "No Country for Old Men". We were talking about how they had absolutely no music in the film.
Jen insisted that there was something. I said, “maybe a strum of a guitar and a poohweeoohweeooh” and at the exact moment we passed a dog poohing! Forget it, we just totally lost it. Now, we sometimes just say poohieeoooohieeeooooooo! Like an old cowboy movie, or…a dog shitting. This still makes me laugh, even as I write it.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Warning: Serious Bitterness, read at your own risk
Guidance requires action, but it does not guarantee safety. --Carolyn Myss ANATOMY OF THE SPIRIT
Oh, this is something that scares me. I feel offended, almost defensive when I read this quote. First I think, you said this wrong, it should be ACTION RQUIRES GUIDANCE. But it’s inverted, guidance requires action. What the fuck does that mean Ms. Myss?
Why does this quote piss me off so much? Maybe because of, what seems to me, a purposeful conundrum. I hate new age spiritual babble…In To Me U See. Fuck you Carolyn Myss!
This is weird, because I usually like her. I usually like what she has to say. But I HATE this quote.
Why? Well, Guidance requires action. Does it really? This seems almost imbecilic! It’s like saying eating requires digestion. Of course, guidance requires one asking for help, and someone else helping or teaching or supporting. I would rather this said, “Guidance requires care, but does not guarantee safety” I prefer that, but one day if I have my own “spiritul” book with clever sayings that make people like DeepPockets Chopra rich, then I can say what ever I want.
The "does not Guarantee safety" is actually the best part of this quote. Safety is never guaranteed. That is true. Life happens, anything can happen at anytime. Safety is not guaranteed.
But I can’t help but think this is a statement in a contract avoiding some liability for some kind of physical activity. The roller skating rink, ski resort, bunji jumping company can not be held accountable if you get injured.
Apparently neither can Carolyn Myss.
I had no idea how bitter my 3rd chakra can be.
Oh, this is something that scares me. I feel offended, almost defensive when I read this quote. First I think, you said this wrong, it should be ACTION RQUIRES GUIDANCE. But it’s inverted, guidance requires action. What the fuck does that mean Ms. Myss?
Why does this quote piss me off so much? Maybe because of, what seems to me, a purposeful conundrum. I hate new age spiritual babble…In To Me U See. Fuck you Carolyn Myss!
This is weird, because I usually like her. I usually like what she has to say. But I HATE this quote.
Why? Well, Guidance requires action. Does it really? This seems almost imbecilic! It’s like saying eating requires digestion. Of course, guidance requires one asking for help, and someone else helping or teaching or supporting. I would rather this said, “Guidance requires care, but does not guarantee safety” I prefer that, but one day if I have my own “spiritul” book with clever sayings that make people like DeepPockets Chopra rich, then I can say what ever I want.
The "does not Guarantee safety" is actually the best part of this quote. Safety is never guaranteed. That is true. Life happens, anything can happen at anytime. Safety is not guaranteed.
But I can’t help but think this is a statement in a contract avoiding some liability for some kind of physical activity. The roller skating rink, ski resort, bunji jumping company can not be held accountable if you get injured.
Apparently neither can Carolyn Myss.
I had no idea how bitter my 3rd chakra can be.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Another Quote
Funny, I was going to put this up yesterday, but I thought, it's not mine...but since quotes are appearing, here's a good one:
"If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you aught to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and thy open the doors to you. I say follow your bliss and don't be afraid and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."
Joseph Campbell THE POWER OF MYTH
"If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you aught to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and thy open the doors to you. I say follow your bliss and don't be afraid and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."
Joseph Campbell THE POWER OF MYTH
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure.
Anonymous, often attributed to Dan Quayle
- More quotations on: [Failure]
Most people would rather be certain they're miserable than risk being happy.
-Robert Anthony
Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.
-Walter Anderson
It seems to me that people have vast potential. Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks. Yet most people don't. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever.
-Philip Adams
- More quotations on: [Confidence] [Risk]
To win without risk is to triumph without glory.
_ I forget
Follow your bliss, It's hit or miss, catch a wave, may be your lucky day.
Follow your heart, it's time to start,
roll the dice pick a card throw a dart.
-wooden thomas
Anonymous, often attributed to Dan Quayle
- More quotations on: [Failure]
Most people would rather be certain they're miserable than risk being happy.
-Robert Anthony
Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.
-Walter Anderson
It seems to me that people have vast potential. Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks. Yet most people don't. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever.
-Philip Adams
- More quotations on: [Confidence] [Risk]
To win without risk is to triumph without glory.
_ I forget
Follow your bliss, It's hit or miss, catch a wave, may be your lucky day.
Follow your heart, it's time to start,
roll the dice pick a card throw a dart.
-wooden thomas
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Through the eyes of the world
I see an energetic and enthusiastic being. I see his boldness and courage. I see his humor, wit, and sarcasm. I see where he stops and is blocked. I see his resistance. He doesn’t like to be told what to do. He arches his back, and his face moves back in disgust. Don’t try to push him too hard, or he won’t budge.
He is at the center. He is different with different people. He is morpholicious. He actually becomes the energetic response to whoever is with him. He is a dancer. He often has no self . Who is that man, just himself, with no influence?
Oh, I see him, a shining golden being of compassion. He is a bodhisatva, though he hasn’t fully realized it yet. He is an eternal clown, heyoki spirit for change. He is compassion and love and joy and good humor. He is fierceness and truth, and boldness. He’s a fucking superhero!
He is a man, like any other. Human being, with given circumstances and such. His gifts are musical, rhythmical, oracle, hysterical. He has a lot to offer, in a little time. He sometime fritters away.
He can be lazy and stubborn. He can be closed and argumentative. He can be an instigator and enabler, he can be a rebel and iconiclaster.
But he is always Chris. He is always the same. He is that giggling, curious, investigating, philosophical, magical man.
He is at the center. He is different with different people. He is morpholicious. He actually becomes the energetic response to whoever is with him. He is a dancer. He often has no self . Who is that man, just himself, with no influence?
Oh, I see him, a shining golden being of compassion. He is a bodhisatva, though he hasn’t fully realized it yet. He is an eternal clown, heyoki spirit for change. He is compassion and love and joy and good humor. He is fierceness and truth, and boldness. He’s a fucking superhero!
He is a man, like any other. Human being, with given circumstances and such. His gifts are musical, rhythmical, oracle, hysterical. He has a lot to offer, in a little time. He sometime fritters away.
He can be lazy and stubborn. He can be closed and argumentative. He can be an instigator and enabler, he can be a rebel and iconiclaster.
But he is always Chris. He is always the same. He is that giggling, curious, investigating, philosophical, magical man.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday Night Nosh
I got together last night with my friend Wendy and her friend Marjorie for nibbles and libations. Wendy's house is gorgeous, southwestern earth tones and a lime-olive green bathroom. Wendy is a quilting queen, so lots of quilts hanging on the walls and a table of handmade goddesses (which I must look at more closely next time). She showed me some double zero (tiny!!!!) knitting needles and thread which she used to make amulet bags for her pals last xmas (solstice). I was amazed and impressed and excited and inspired.
Toward the end of the evening we got to talking about celibacy and religion. It began when I was talking about my training as a yoga teacher. One of the swami's told us that tantra didn't exist and then in the same sentence said it was a left-hand path. (does it exist or doesn't it?) The bottom line was they advocated bramacharya (in the simplest sense, celibacy).
So the question we left the night with was: Why are religions so hung up on sexuality? Why is celibacy necessary in order to reach spiritual enlightenment? It's across the board with most Western religions and at least what I learned of eastern (Hindu) religion that I studied at the ashram.
My first thought was that when societies were matrilineal and women had ownership of land, they had the power. At some point in western history, male priests married women (landowners), got their land, then declared that women had no rights and witch hunts ensued, etc., etc.
Sexuality is fluid, feminine. Subjugate women, subjugate sexuality.
Fertility/sexuality was also where women held power. Women are the givers of life, they also knew what to do/what herbs to take in order to prevent pregnancy. Furthermore, women have the capacity to have sex ongoing whereas men can ejaculate a few times a day and that's it. From a purely biological, propagate-the-species-point-of-view, maybe women are built this way to a) have the capacity to receive a lot of pleasure to make the pain and danger of childbirth worth it and/or b) have the capacity to have sex with many different partners so that the sperm of the healthiest partner gets through, hence, hopefully guaranteeing stronger, more fit offspring. (Of course, if you don't believe in evolution . . . what can I say?)
That leaves another problem for men. It means that they can never be sure if they are the baby-daddy. (Well, now that there's DNA testing and Maury Povitch . . . )
Getting away from the "power over women" point of view, having a healthy sexual relationship with a person (whether it's male/female or same sex), requires the ability to be loving and trusting and vulnerable. It takes time and energy. It requires us to be open with our feelings and accepting of our partner. We must resist the urge to control or be controlled. How many of us actually have the willingness to go deep, to surrender? How many of us have had the experience of letting our egos go so utterly completely with another person that we realize we are "One with the Universe" and that the love we are experiencing is expanding in that universe? (It's the grooviest experience ever!)
Some religions teach that the only way to really experience total surrender is to actually physically die. So, perhaps a reason to fear sex? Some people even fear meditation for that very reason!
From a yogic standpoint, when you have sex with someone, you pick up your partner's energy and they pick up yours. You exchange karma, essentially. Not just from this lifetime, but from all the millions of past lifetimes. So, if you're focus is on releasing your karma and ceasing to be reincarnated, then it would make sense to just avoid sex altogether.
Or how about this -- if we are enjoying life and our partners, maybe we won't be so compelled to acquire more "things". Maybe we'd realize we don't have to consume so much, make more money, submit to slavery. That leaves less tithing money for the church (temple, synagogue, you fill in the blank).
Or maybe we'd we feel so good enjoying our sexuality, we wouldn't have to go to church at all? We might start beginning to have our own ideas about spirituality and enlightenment. We might even decide to make up our own rituals.
Every person has sexuality. Make people feel ashamed about sexuality, and you have power over them. When our view of nature is distorted, we can't be sure of anything. Instead of looking within and listening to our own answers (because now we are stupid and afraid and "sinful"), we look outside of ourselves for what is "right". So the preacher in the pulpit who makes us feel shame and guilt must be right, or the talking head shouting at us from CNN or FOX must be right, or our neighbor with the SUV and the Prada handbag must be right. Whatever makes us feel inadequate must be right, no?
Since we're looking outside of ourselves for validation, we must also look outside of ourselves for what is "invalid". If we are harsh judges of ourselves, how harsh are we going to be on others? The more we look outside ourselves for what is wrong with everyone else, the less we know ourselves, and, the more "evil" we see in the world. As we further lose sight of ourselves, we lose personal power. It's a cycle, because the more powerless we feel, the more we need validation. The less we know what really makes us happy, the more we need someone (or a talking box) to tell us what is "good for us".
So, sex isn't "bad". What's bad are the power trips surrounding it that are bad. And because sex is so powerful, there are a lot of them.
OK, my 2nd chakra rant of the day is done for now. I think I opened a huge can of worms, and I could keep going. These are just general ideas, perhaps I will go back and work on more comprehensive drafts. Right now I need a shower and to stretch my periformas and psoas muscles.
Some religions teach that the only way to really experience total surrender is to actually physically die. So, perhaps a reason to fear sex? Some people even fear meditation for that very reason!
From a yogic standpoint, when you have sex with someone, you pick up your partner's energy and they pick up yours. You exchange karma, essentially. Not just from this lifetime, but from all the millions of past lifetimes. So, if you're focus is on releasing your karma and ceasing to be reincarnated, then it would make sense to just avoid sex altogether.
Or how about this -- if we are enjoying life and our partners, maybe we won't be so compelled to acquire more "things". Maybe we'd realize we don't have to consume so much, make more money, submit to slavery. That leaves less tithing money for the church (temple, synagogue, you fill in the blank).
Or maybe we'd we feel so good enjoying our sexuality, we wouldn't have to go to church at all? We might start beginning to have our own ideas about spirituality and enlightenment. We might even decide to make up our own rituals.
Every person has sexuality. Make people feel ashamed about sexuality, and you have power over them. When our view of nature is distorted, we can't be sure of anything. Instead of looking within and listening to our own answers (because now we are stupid and afraid and "sinful"), we look outside of ourselves for what is "right". So the preacher in the pulpit who makes us feel shame and guilt must be right, or the talking head shouting at us from CNN or FOX must be right, or our neighbor with the SUV and the Prada handbag must be right. Whatever makes us feel inadequate must be right, no?
Since we're looking outside of ourselves for validation, we must also look outside of ourselves for what is "invalid". If we are harsh judges of ourselves, how harsh are we going to be on others? The more we look outside ourselves for what is wrong with everyone else, the less we know ourselves, and, the more "evil" we see in the world. As we further lose sight of ourselves, we lose personal power. It's a cycle, because the more powerless we feel, the more we need validation. The less we know what really makes us happy, the more we need someone (or a talking box) to tell us what is "good for us".
So, sex isn't "bad". What's bad are the power trips surrounding it that are bad. And because sex is so powerful, there are a lot of them.
OK, my 2nd chakra rant of the day is done for now. I think I opened a huge can of worms, and I could keep going. These are just general ideas, perhaps I will go back and work on more comprehensive drafts. Right now I need a shower and to stretch my periformas and psoas muscles.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
First Lie
I’m sure I lied before this, but it’s the first lie that comes to mind….Santa Claus!
In first grade, I was walking home from school with my friend Eric Berkowitz. He told me that Santa Claus wasn’t real. He was Jewish and didn’t celebrate Christmas, so I thought he was just jealous. To my shock and 6 year old horror, my mother confirmed what Eric had told me.
I really didn’t understand why I had been duped. I mean, why tell a kid that something is real when it’s not. Was it some kind of sick and cruel joke? Couldn’t I have handled the truth? Wouldn’t I have enjoyed Christmas just as much if I knew the gifts were coming from my parents and not a fabricated story of a man in the red suit?
I wanted to bust out and tell everyone, but my mom insisted that the story is for little kids and that I shouldn’t ruin it for them.
So, at my uncle and aunts’ Christmas party, there I was, in the living room with a few of the younger kids, lying about Santa with the adults. I was telling them that Santa was as real as anything, while winking at Aunt Barbara, making sure that she knew I knew the deal. I was now one of the holiday grown ups. And I was both proud and disgusted with myself.
Years later, an Atheist friend told me there was no God. After years of researching that one, I figure it’s true. There is no old man with a beard sitting on a cloud watching your genitals. Never was, and never will be. No lie.
Who created you? Well, I don’t want to ruin it for you, but remember your mom and dad? Yup, they did it again.
In first grade, I was walking home from school with my friend Eric Berkowitz. He told me that Santa Claus wasn’t real. He was Jewish and didn’t celebrate Christmas, so I thought he was just jealous. To my shock and 6 year old horror, my mother confirmed what Eric had told me.
I really didn’t understand why I had been duped. I mean, why tell a kid that something is real when it’s not. Was it some kind of sick and cruel joke? Couldn’t I have handled the truth? Wouldn’t I have enjoyed Christmas just as much if I knew the gifts were coming from my parents and not a fabricated story of a man in the red suit?
I wanted to bust out and tell everyone, but my mom insisted that the story is for little kids and that I shouldn’t ruin it for them.
So, at my uncle and aunts’ Christmas party, there I was, in the living room with a few of the younger kids, lying about Santa with the adults. I was telling them that Santa was as real as anything, while winking at Aunt Barbara, making sure that she knew I knew the deal. I was now one of the holiday grown ups. And I was both proud and disgusted with myself.
Years later, an Atheist friend told me there was no God. After years of researching that one, I figure it’s true. There is no old man with a beard sitting on a cloud watching your genitals. Never was, and never will be. No lie.
Who created you? Well, I don’t want to ruin it for you, but remember your mom and dad? Yup, they did it again.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Follow your Dream!
The first thing I think about is the Tarot conference in Florida in 1998.
I remember seeing the flyer for the Tarot conference and just knowing that I was going to go. This was a strange revelation, because, I barely had any money and no way to get there. But I was deeply into my studies of Tarot at the time, and felt I had to go.
So I got myself a map of the east coast, and I wrote the date of the Tarot conference (February 1998) with arrows pointing form NYC to Florida, to the small beach town about an hour or so south of Orlando. Then I hung the map up on the wall across from my bed, so that every morning it was the first thing I looked at. I would wake up and say, “I’m not sure how, but I am going to the Tarot conference in Florida.”
I was working in a witch shop doing Tarot readings, and I kept talking about the conference because I knew I was going to go. I just kept saying “I don’t know how, but I’m going to Florida.”
I began to write a booklet on understanding the court cards, called “Order in the Court”. I made as many copies of it as I could afford and planed to sell it at the conference to $10 a pop.
When I made money, I would save a little aside, and finally had enough for the train ride down. The Train was about $70 to ride the Silver Star, all day and night to Orlando. I visited a college friend in Orlando, then went to visit a high school friend in Melbourne. I still had no idea how I was going to get to the conference, until my friend graciously let me borrow her car! It was this hot red sports car, and I felt really cool and magical arriving at the conference in it.
At the conference I sold all of my books, but I still didn’t have enough money to get home. I was going to just return to my friend in Melbourne and see if I could somehow work there, when friends of mine from New York who were at the conference just lent me $50.
I got a bus from Orlando to NY. The ride was torture, even though I was grateful to be going home, and I was surround by these hunky marines, who had just finished training. I don’t recommend a 24 hour bus trip! It was the only hellish part of the journey. I would take a train any day instead of a bus for a long trip.
I never asked for help from anyone, I never expected anything form anyone, I just went with the thought that I was supposed to be there, and that I everything would work out. It’s one of the best little adventures of my life.
I remember seeing the flyer for the Tarot conference and just knowing that I was going to go. This was a strange revelation, because, I barely had any money and no way to get there. But I was deeply into my studies of Tarot at the time, and felt I had to go.
So I got myself a map of the east coast, and I wrote the date of the Tarot conference (February 1998) with arrows pointing form NYC to Florida, to the small beach town about an hour or so south of Orlando. Then I hung the map up on the wall across from my bed, so that every morning it was the first thing I looked at. I would wake up and say, “I’m not sure how, but I am going to the Tarot conference in Florida.”
I was working in a witch shop doing Tarot readings, and I kept talking about the conference because I knew I was going to go. I just kept saying “I don’t know how, but I’m going to Florida.”
I began to write a booklet on understanding the court cards, called “Order in the Court”. I made as many copies of it as I could afford and planed to sell it at the conference to $10 a pop.
When I made money, I would save a little aside, and finally had enough for the train ride down. The Train was about $70 to ride the Silver Star, all day and night to Orlando. I visited a college friend in Orlando, then went to visit a high school friend in Melbourne. I still had no idea how I was going to get to the conference, until my friend graciously let me borrow her car! It was this hot red sports car, and I felt really cool and magical arriving at the conference in it.
At the conference I sold all of my books, but I still didn’t have enough money to get home. I was going to just return to my friend in Melbourne and see if I could somehow work there, when friends of mine from New York who were at the conference just lent me $50.
I got a bus from Orlando to NY. The ride was torture, even though I was grateful to be going home, and I was surround by these hunky marines, who had just finished training. I don’t recommend a 24 hour bus trip! It was the only hellish part of the journey. I would take a train any day instead of a bus for a long trip.
I never asked for help from anyone, I never expected anything form anyone, I just went with the thought that I was supposed to be there, and that I everything would work out. It’s one of the best little adventures of my life.
Friday, June 20, 2008
oiuoi;ew7ly;o8
The fisrt kiss was wet. I did'nt feel much of anything so I whent home and watch Flinstones cartoons.
Then I practiced kissing on my own hand.
And then I felt something soulful in my brain .
Then I kissed another girl and I did'nt feel anything, so I went home and listened to Black Sabbath records.
Then I fell in love , in lust, and now I feel every bit of kiss when I do.
If I do.
The first one was nothing.
Then I practiced kissing on my own hand.
And then I felt something soulful in my brain .
Then I kissed another girl and I did'nt feel anything, so I went home and listened to Black Sabbath records.
Then I fell in love , in lust, and now I feel every bit of kiss when I do.
If I do.
The first one was nothing.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Death and Life
On Saturday May 31, a friend of more than 20 years died. We saw each other sporadically over the years, but always the same fun, joking friendship. He lived in a different world than I. He always said he appreciated that I never judged him. He'd say there was "a place in heaven" for me. I'd tell him there was a place for him too. He'd ask me to put in a good word for him.
Here's the good word, Rich!
He's at peace now, no drama in heaven, that's for sure. He was a man of soul, heart, love and great humor. That fully SHINES now - no more tarnish of the material world. FREE.
Saturday, June 7 - Funeral - Open casket. Certainly not the man there.
Due to bodily or embalming fluids, there appeared to be a dry tear under his right eye. I heard that when his 2 ex-wives, 2 daughters & son viewed the body, the tear came down & the boy said, "Look, Daddy is crying." Never really knew the wives or the kids. But many of his friends remembered me, some looked like Bart Simpson "grown-up" with square heads and thick necks and all were wider than their athletic past selves.
Sunday, June 8 - Baby Christening in NJ
My niece's 2nd child - James Patrick, 3 mos. old. It's also his Dad's name, but he's no Junior!
Dad is Jim and he's a James.
I purposely slept late and missed the church.
James was in the living room on the couch being held by my mother, his great-granny.
I came in kissed Mom, Sis#1 (the granny) & sat on the table in front of him and I had him in my gaze. Holding his hands, saying in a sing-song voice, "Is this your special day?" " Did the priest put water & oil on your head?" I'm touching his little cheeks and forehead too and he just lights up like Times Square. He responds with a giant smile and little coos and moans. His little old man wrinkled forehead, no hair & giant blue eyes.
Amazing that the eyes remain the same - the only part of you that doesn't grow!
Sweet Baby James, as my mother will say about 20 times an hour, because of Alzheimer's.
A perfect little match to his big sister, Hollie, 22 mos, cherub faced pixie.
Sis #2 drove me home with Mom in the car. Sis#2, "Miss Worrywort of the Century", says, "I hope there's no traffic", more than 10x (shades of Mom?). All signs lead otherwise, but she keeps talking about it. Finally Mom, even in this kind of limbo she's in says - "Why worry? You can't control it. I've always been that way!"
And she has - Thank God, because that saying is why I am a sane and happy person today.
Accepting, having enjoyment in life with enthusiasm for what's to come using the baby steps and conscious participation. Hallelujah!
Here's the good word, Rich!
He's at peace now, no drama in heaven, that's for sure. He was a man of soul, heart, love and great humor. That fully SHINES now - no more tarnish of the material world. FREE.
Saturday, June 7 - Funeral - Open casket. Certainly not the man there.
Due to bodily or embalming fluids, there appeared to be a dry tear under his right eye. I heard that when his 2 ex-wives, 2 daughters & son viewed the body, the tear came down & the boy said, "Look, Daddy is crying." Never really knew the wives or the kids. But many of his friends remembered me, some looked like Bart Simpson "grown-up" with square heads and thick necks and all were wider than their athletic past selves.
Sunday, June 8 - Baby Christening in NJ
My niece's 2nd child - James Patrick, 3 mos. old. It's also his Dad's name, but he's no Junior!
Dad is Jim and he's a James.
I purposely slept late and missed the church.
James was in the living room on the couch being held by my mother, his great-granny.
I came in kissed Mom, Sis#1 (the granny) & sat on the table in front of him and I had him in my gaze. Holding his hands, saying in a sing-song voice, "Is this your special day?" " Did the priest put water & oil on your head?" I'm touching his little cheeks and forehead too and he just lights up like Times Square. He responds with a giant smile and little coos and moans. His little old man wrinkled forehead, no hair & giant blue eyes.
Amazing that the eyes remain the same - the only part of you that doesn't grow!
Sweet Baby James, as my mother will say about 20 times an hour, because of Alzheimer's.
A perfect little match to his big sister, Hollie, 22 mos, cherub faced pixie.
Sis #2 drove me home with Mom in the car. Sis#2, "Miss Worrywort of the Century", says, "I hope there's no traffic", more than 10x (shades of Mom?). All signs lead otherwise, but she keeps talking about it. Finally Mom, even in this kind of limbo she's in says - "Why worry? You can't control it. I've always been that way!"
And she has - Thank God, because that saying is why I am a sane and happy person today.
Accepting, having enjoyment in life with enthusiasm for what's to come using the baby steps and conscious participation. Hallelujah!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
What pulls me?
Restlessness is pulling me out of bed at 4am. Don’t know if it’s spirits or something with in me, but I can’t get sleep right now and I’m getting angry.
The moon is making my brain crash up against my skull. It’s high tide in there. I am completely at the mercy of the moon. It’s like a band playing in my room, one that I can not ignore. Or a song that I can not get out of my head. Or the construction that will start pounding the pavements and shaking the foundation of this block, by 8am, for sure.
Maybe it’s someone else’s anxiety seeping through the walls. A constant vibration of my room mate or neighbor, or perhaps a god, who’s torturous head is now disturbing my sleep.
Resentment is pulling at me. For a life I thought I would have, for a government that I know is rotten, and I’m not sure I have the tools to weed that garden. For hatred and prejudice and suspicion that lives and breathes in the streets of New York. I am an empathic sponge on the riotous silent subway.
Thank Gods that creativity is pulling at me. The computer longs for me to write. The page calls me equally with dreams and thoughts and tarot card readings. Music is pulling at me too. The sound of my voice brings a vibration of healing and sanity to the restless and torpid.
Dance pulls me. The rhythm of my toes and heels and whole foot stomping, flapping, shuffling, hopping, jumping, ball changing and stepping. I can not stop my feet. The drum pulls me too. A joyous and free African sound, Dum dat dat Dum …pa dat. The pulse of life, a heart beat.
Luckily my heart keeps pulling in the tides of my blood. There is something constant I appreciate. The electronic shock that continues to jump start the muscle in the center of my chest. My heart is a vampire for air and joy and love.
The moon is making my brain crash up against my skull. It’s high tide in there. I am completely at the mercy of the moon. It’s like a band playing in my room, one that I can not ignore. Or a song that I can not get out of my head. Or the construction that will start pounding the pavements and shaking the foundation of this block, by 8am, for sure.
Maybe it’s someone else’s anxiety seeping through the walls. A constant vibration of my room mate or neighbor, or perhaps a god, who’s torturous head is now disturbing my sleep.
Resentment is pulling at me. For a life I thought I would have, for a government that I know is rotten, and I’m not sure I have the tools to weed that garden. For hatred and prejudice and suspicion that lives and breathes in the streets of New York. I am an empathic sponge on the riotous silent subway.
Thank Gods that creativity is pulling at me. The computer longs for me to write. The page calls me equally with dreams and thoughts and tarot card readings. Music is pulling at me too. The sound of my voice brings a vibration of healing and sanity to the restless and torpid.
Dance pulls me. The rhythm of my toes and heels and whole foot stomping, flapping, shuffling, hopping, jumping, ball changing and stepping. I can not stop my feet. The drum pulls me too. A joyous and free African sound, Dum dat dat Dum …pa dat. The pulse of life, a heart beat.
Luckily my heart keeps pulling in the tides of my blood. There is something constant I appreciate. The electronic shock that continues to jump start the muscle in the center of my chest. My heart is a vampire for air and joy and love.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Still Here
I've change my name. I want to list my kids t-shirts on etsy.com & would rather not have these scribblings come up when googling my previous name.
The name comes from Granpda Patrick Mc. He babysat me & sis #4. I'm sis #3. We were about 3 & 6. She was Magoo, for the giant blue eyes & I was hairpin.
He watched us in his apartment a couple blocks away from ours. Every so often he'd go over to his kitchen cabinet, take a shot glass, fill it and drink it. Sis #4 would say, What's that Grandpa?
Oh, it's just my medicine! I think I'm hairpin because I knew there was no medicine in that bottle. I never said it, but I kinda got under his skin.
Nowadays Magoo has her own Patrick - who is in fact a bonafide Hairpin!
Takes one to know one.
The name comes from Granpda Patrick Mc. He babysat me & sis #4. I'm sis #3. We were about 3 & 6. She was Magoo, for the giant blue eyes & I was hairpin.
He watched us in his apartment a couple blocks away from ours. Every so often he'd go over to his kitchen cabinet, take a shot glass, fill it and drink it. Sis #4 would say, What's that Grandpa?
Oh, it's just my medicine! I think I'm hairpin because I knew there was no medicine in that bottle. I never said it, but I kinda got under his skin.
Nowadays Magoo has her own Patrick - who is in fact a bonafide Hairpin!
Takes one to know one.
Derscibe waht hpapnes wehn you are adandnoed.
Describe what happens when you are abandoned.
I was aenabndod the sencod the umilicbal chrod was cut Mokterfucher!
Jsut kidndig, I was tnryig to snoud toguh!
Soeetmims anandonbmet deos not maen “Unelovd” but we mgiht feel taht way.
Ppeole can be slef cernteed to the ponit of aanidonbng otrhes.
For exalmpe I dno’t bveliee Hloly has aanndobed us, I bevleie she silmpy did not go on lnie for a few dyas due to incnonenievce or seh’s jsut hanvig too mcuh fun otershwie.
I flet anandobed by my fridens in Long Isnlad 21 yeras ago, tehy wree all on dgrus and
not contneced to the orb of copaosmsin.
Tehy wree slef ceenertd twtety yaer odls on dgrus.
I sitll kokw and astsociae with thsoe gyus taody, and the mian difcferene now is taht if sonethimg geos arwy wtih a cerw meembr on the smae baot tehy will try to rceah out and see if eneryove is ahlgrit, as lnog as it deos not intuerrpt tehir weed smnokig!
I hvae flet aanenbdod by weomn. I was ocne twteny yreas old and did not hvae a flul undenrstandig taht pepole dno’t crae all taht mcuh, they sommeties act or seem lkie tehy do but tehy wlil look out for theeselmvs fisrt.
Smoe pleole lrean taht to tkae crae of otrhes IS TO TKAE crae of ones slef.
We are all in the smae baot tegethor, if one cerw memebr gtes scik dno’t tsos tehm oevr borad, no mtater how contouagis ……. uenlss tehy are scik wtih a dsseaie cellad “Lcak of Compassion” Then I say toss ‘em.
Hwo’s taht for snonduig tguoh?
I was aenabndod the sencod the umilicbal chrod was cut Mokterfucher!
Jsut kidndig, I was tnryig to snoud toguh!
Soeetmims anandonbmet deos not maen “Unelovd” but we mgiht feel taht way.
Ppeole can be slef cernteed to the ponit of aanidonbng otrhes.
For exalmpe I dno’t bveliee Hloly has aanndobed us, I bevleie she silmpy did not go on lnie for a few dyas due to incnonenievce or seh’s jsut hanvig too mcuh fun otershwie.
I flet anandobed by my fridens in Long Isnlad 21 yeras ago, tehy wree all on dgrus and
not contneced to the orb of copaosmsin.
Tehy wree slef ceenertd twtety yaer odls on dgrus.
I sitll kokw and astsociae with thsoe gyus taody, and the mian difcferene now is taht if sonethimg geos arwy wtih a cerw meembr on the smae baot tehy will try to rceah out and see if eneryove is ahlgrit, as lnog as it deos not intuerrpt tehir weed smnokig!
I hvae flet aanenbdod by weomn. I was ocne twteny yreas old and did not hvae a flul undenrstandig taht pepole dno’t crae all taht mcuh, they sommeties act or seem lkie tehy do but tehy wlil look out for theeselmvs fisrt.
Smoe pleole lrean taht to tkae crae of otrhes IS TO TKAE crae of ones slef.
We are all in the smae baot tegethor, if one cerw memebr gtes scik dno’t tsos tehm oevr borad, no mtater how contouagis ……. uenlss tehy are scik wtih a dsseaie cellad “Lcak of Compassion” Then I say toss ‘em.
Hwo’s taht for snonduig tguoh?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
How do I taste?
A Mosquito tasted my blood. Metalic and slightly sweet. I’ve got my sugars down to a semi normal level. He used to get high on the taste of my saccharine blood. Now he doesn’t come around to bite me so much anymore. Guess he found someone near the new Dunkin Donuts.
A lover tasted the salty sweat on my skin, and kept licking and lapping me. That was nice. This was in P-town, so I was the essence of coconut with a touch of chemicals from suntan lotion 15 proof. He wanted to taste me from top to bottom, I stopped him before he went too far…I mean, I hadn’t showered.
Hope licked my knees the other day. She was wagging in and out of our little circle, sampling us all. Sometimes she gets a taste of me in her mouth and she’s gotta go for a whole hand meal. Maybe I’m a sort of puppy chow to her palette.
Sapho likes to taste my face. Guess she’s trying to see if my stubble can handle her sandpaper tongue. She wins. To a cat I taste soft and human. She’s not in it for the flavor though, cause she is finicky. She just want me to pet her.
A lover tasted the salty sweat on my skin, and kept licking and lapping me. That was nice. This was in P-town, so I was the essence of coconut with a touch of chemicals from suntan lotion 15 proof. He wanted to taste me from top to bottom, I stopped him before he went too far…I mean, I hadn’t showered.
Hope licked my knees the other day. She was wagging in and out of our little circle, sampling us all. Sometimes she gets a taste of me in her mouth and she’s gotta go for a whole hand meal. Maybe I’m a sort of puppy chow to her palette.
Sapho likes to taste my face. Guess she’s trying to see if my stubble can handle her sandpaper tongue. She wins. To a cat I taste soft and human. She’s not in it for the flavor though, cause she is finicky. She just want me to pet her.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
It's a matter of taste
I taste the air today in New York, so hot and humid, it tastes like water just to breath. Not quite as swampy as a Tennesee Williams play, but definitely as thick. Maybe it’s more sweaty, like kids playing basketball in the park across the street.
I taste excitement and anticipation cause I’m going to Carnegie hall tonight. Going to see the concert of Show Boat. I expect that the air will be good and cool in there. Who knows though, it is a mercury retrograde.
I taste, I taste, I taste the air conditioner in my room, the cool air leaves a metallic feel on my tounge.
There was a time once when I tasted people’s emotions, I was doing these metaphysical meditations on the senses. The advice was to take it slow and do one sense at a time. I did all five and cracked open like an acorn.
I was tasting peoples emotions. At the time, I was in a play, and this actress had to play “angry”. She spewed this hateful fierce and fiery rage that felt like little darts in the back of my throat. It was a disgusting taste; very hard to swallow.
Bitterness is also hard to taste, and it usually comes with a side serving of gossip and criticism; phrases like “they don’t know who they’re messin with” and “she ought to know better” and “it’s not fair”
Sadness closes up my throat, I can choke on it. It’s kind of a mixture of salty tears and something acidic. Wonder if I’m allergic.
Joy and happiness are pleasantly sweet, unless it’s forced, then it’s like putting too much salt water taffy in you mouth.
I taste excitement and anticipation cause I’m going to Carnegie hall tonight. Going to see the concert of Show Boat. I expect that the air will be good and cool in there. Who knows though, it is a mercury retrograde.
I taste, I taste, I taste the air conditioner in my room, the cool air leaves a metallic feel on my tounge.
There was a time once when I tasted people’s emotions, I was doing these metaphysical meditations on the senses. The advice was to take it slow and do one sense at a time. I did all five and cracked open like an acorn.
I was tasting peoples emotions. At the time, I was in a play, and this actress had to play “angry”. She spewed this hateful fierce and fiery rage that felt like little darts in the back of my throat. It was a disgusting taste; very hard to swallow.
Bitterness is also hard to taste, and it usually comes with a side serving of gossip and criticism; phrases like “they don’t know who they’re messin with” and “she ought to know better” and “it’s not fair”
Sadness closes up my throat, I can choke on it. It’s kind of a mixture of salty tears and something acidic. Wonder if I’m allergic.
Joy and happiness are pleasantly sweet, unless it’s forced, then it’s like putting too much salt water taffy in you mouth.
How do you taste the world?
Current
Here, under the soft flat leaves of the pond's surface
I stir the sediment
I draw in the world, sieve it through my mouth, my gills,
tasting, returning it.
I am met by the pulse of movement from the outside.
Time flows through my body with the ease of water.
I shift position, yield my gaze. The element
chooses my direction.
I draw my mouth shut and I hear my praise ascend
against stillness. Others hear it. They too,
hold themselves against the pressure of the depths.
I am drawn by that tattered leaf, by the trails
of water bugs written on the surface, the taste of currents pulsing
from the spring.
I recognize the charge that every thing possesses.
How changeable a signature—I have seen a touch bring death.
I live amid particles and waves, blood, currents,
secrets. In the darkness, I keep still
the questions.
The answers themselves
return my gaze.
Monday, June 9, 2008
From Week 1 in the Root
Raw Root Quotes
Day 1
“Imagine that the world is waiting for us, for me, for my involvement. For all of the western religion babble about the evilness of the world and the body, I’m suddenly struck by the sacredness of these things.
What a gift to incarnate! What a beautiful thing.”
“We are all travelers on this journey of life, and we are all getting dust on our feet from the road, even if we stay in bed, the dust from the road finds us and settles upon us. We are the dust.”
“I wonder how we keep coming together and apart. What is it? I’ve heard that we are all a sacred song; a vibration that calls together these certain molecules and everything that is us. Is that why learning someone’s magical name is so dangerous? Can someone sing us out of existence, disturb our song?
Guess that’s abuse and all the other negative things that go on here on the earth plane; The things that disturb the song.”
Day 4
“Yesterday I found a book at Virgin Records called “Who Shat That?”, it showed animals and the kind of poop they have. I guess there is nothing quite more root chakra than that.”
“…. Here’s another thing to think about. We often smell like the food we eat. So that makes me possibly smell like eggs and cheese, Kamut bread, salmon, chicken, manna bread, cereal and milk, lettuce, pistachios, avacado… etc.”
Day 5
“Crap, my head is a trap.”
“This is getting very deep. I really do have the idea that if I was around normal beautiful, open minded people who are on their path and not fucked up by their fears that I would totally flourish. Is this an absolute fantasy? Do these people exist?”
Day 6
“Now I am hearing Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I still feel the vibration in my head. I wonder if that is a part of the brain, deep in the center that hears music. It’s actually like a ghost in my ear. Wow. The Swan Lake, the main theme is so moving and passionate. It pulls at grief in my throat, and I see deep blues and murky greens.”
“How do I paint a song. Is that something I should consider on a regular basis. What is the color of this song in general, and what is the color that I am bringing. Seabreeze green, like a ship sailing away, with sunlight on the water is the end of that song (Annie Lenox NO MORE I LOVE YOUS).”
Day 1
“Imagine that the world is waiting for us, for me, for my involvement. For all of the western religion babble about the evilness of the world and the body, I’m suddenly struck by the sacredness of these things.
What a gift to incarnate! What a beautiful thing.”
“We are all travelers on this journey of life, and we are all getting dust on our feet from the road, even if we stay in bed, the dust from the road finds us and settles upon us. We are the dust.”
“I wonder how we keep coming together and apart. What is it? I’ve heard that we are all a sacred song; a vibration that calls together these certain molecules and everything that is us. Is that why learning someone’s magical name is so dangerous? Can someone sing us out of existence, disturb our song?
Guess that’s abuse and all the other negative things that go on here on the earth plane; The things that disturb the song.”
Day 4
“Yesterday I found a book at Virgin Records called “Who Shat That?”, it showed animals and the kind of poop they have. I guess there is nothing quite more root chakra than that.”
“…. Here’s another thing to think about. We often smell like the food we eat. So that makes me possibly smell like eggs and cheese, Kamut bread, salmon, chicken, manna bread, cereal and milk, lettuce, pistachios, avacado… etc.”
Day 5
“Crap, my head is a trap.”
“This is getting very deep. I really do have the idea that if I was around normal beautiful, open minded people who are on their path and not fucked up by their fears that I would totally flourish. Is this an absolute fantasy? Do these people exist?”
Day 6
“Now I am hearing Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I still feel the vibration in my head. I wonder if that is a part of the brain, deep in the center that hears music. It’s actually like a ghost in my ear. Wow. The Swan Lake, the main theme is so moving and passionate. It pulls at grief in my throat, and I see deep blues and murky greens.”
“How do I paint a song. Is that something I should consider on a regular basis. What is the color of this song in general, and what is the color that I am bringing. Seabreeze green, like a ship sailing away, with sunlight on the water is the end of that song (Annie Lenox NO MORE I LOVE YOUS).”
write about orange
Orange. The crisp smell of sweet citrus as you are sprayed with the juice of an orange being peeled. No, a clemintine. Orange is both bitter and sweet, both fiery and wet.
The strange smell of fake orange scented things, like banana, science has not really been able to capture the natural essence of orange.
Carrots boiling in a stew; orange is the soft almost candy taste of cooked carrots or yams.
Cream popsicle, summer day, the drop melting on a child’s lip. The sherbert that I don’t want, I prefer the green or pink or white. The M&M I eat before the green, red and blue. Do I eat orange or yellow first? I go brown, tan, yellow then orange.
Orange is the sunset, no the sun. Our sun is yellow and red and orange. Blazing reflection of bursting colored sunset clouds.
Orange is the belly of a shell, and the crustacian living inside. The butterfly wing of a monarch.
Pumpkin fields in October covered with the mushy bumpy sight of orange. The color of everything in the fall, from muffins, to pies, to cider to falling leaves.
Orange is bold and beautiful. It can be fresh or sickening. It can be enlivening or halting. It is a strong color.
Orange light is barely ever used on stage, as far as I know. You can get orange gels, but more often people want pink and red and blue and golden yellow, even green. Orange can be too exotic. It can be eastern and middle eastern; the color of oriental pillows and Indian saris, the Egyptian perfume bottle, the desert harem tent or the carpet in Arabian nights.
Orange is almost a state of emergency.
Orange. The crisp smell of sweet citrus as you are sprayed with the juice of an orange being peeled. No, a clemintine. Orange is both bitter and sweet, both fiery and wet.
The strange smell of fake orange scented things, like banana, science has not really been able to capture the natural essence of orange.
Carrots boiling in a stew; orange is the soft almost candy taste of cooked carrots or yams.
Cream popsicle, summer day, the drop melting on a child’s lip. The sherbert that I don’t want, I prefer the green or pink or white. The M&M I eat before the green, red and blue. Do I eat orange or yellow first? I go brown, tan, yellow then orange.
Orange is the sunset, no the sun. Our sun is yellow and red and orange. Blazing reflection of bursting colored sunset clouds.
Orange is the belly of a shell, and the crustacian living inside. The butterfly wing of a monarch.
Pumpkin fields in October covered with the mushy bumpy sight of orange. The color of everything in the fall, from muffins, to pies, to cider to falling leaves.
Orange is bold and beautiful. It can be fresh or sickening. It can be enlivening or halting. It is a strong color.
Orange light is barely ever used on stage, as far as I know. You can get orange gels, but more often people want pink and red and blue and golden yellow, even green. Orange can be too exotic. It can be eastern and middle eastern; the color of oriental pillows and Indian saris, the Egyptian perfume bottle, the desert harem tent or the carpet in Arabian nights.
Orange is almost a state of emergency.
Monday, June 2, 2008
The Past Decade 2008- 2018.
Happy 2018 everybody!
We made it through a lot in the past decade.
This year we have a winner for the build your own house contest, It’s Henry Muchmore from Intercourse Pa. with his home built entirely out of corn cobs!
Now, put that in yer pipe n’ smoke it!
As you know there have been protests all week long against the treatment of headless people. There have been several “Picket” lines, even though no one ever uses a Picket, only cardboard tubes, where signs have read, “Help save the Headless people !... from them selves”
There were also banners that expressed a different angel , one read, “Let the Headless run on their treadmills , there’s bigger problems in the world”.Unquote.
Problems yes, but Miracles as well! In 2015 we saw the come back of the bumble fly honey butter bee which nearly went into complete extinction, but thanks to the good folks at Monsanto, the bumble fly honey butter bee is out there making the world a more flowering fruitful and survivably fascinating place! The genteticly modified insects are now onsale.
The larva start up kit is now Available in the non stinging variety in bulk at your local Walgreens.
Available in striped Violet and glow in the dark and Monarch black and yellow.
In 2012 President Knock on Wood Obama was asked what he thought about the final closing of the MacDonald’s franchise . “ McDonalds was a franscise that made many people happy, but many people very sick” Said President Knock on Wood Obama . “The law suits against the hamburger giant were righteous due to years of producing a product of negligent quality” Unquote.
The past decade has also seen many inventions. Who would have thought that a water purification system could be so effective on such a large scale? The floods along the Mississippi have been cleaned from Memphis all the way to New Orleans and the water that was siphoned and cleaned is now 100 % purified. One can hardly tell the bottled flood water from a bottle of Poland Spring which now goes for about 10.00$ a liter .
We have met quite a few people here at this point in history, we have seen an influx of Tibetan Monks into the USA who have helped shape our ideas , and we have seen the corporations tower so very high and we have seen them collapse onto them selves and eachother. However no one will ever forget December 2012 when the world ended.
Mayans and regular working class folks from allover the world both agreed, “That was a total BLAST, a real BLAST! " Unquote.
We made it through a lot in the past decade.
This year we have a winner for the build your own house contest, It’s Henry Muchmore from Intercourse Pa. with his home built entirely out of corn cobs!
Now, put that in yer pipe n’ smoke it!
As you know there have been protests all week long against the treatment of headless people. There have been several “Picket” lines, even though no one ever uses a Picket, only cardboard tubes, where signs have read, “Help save the Headless people !... from them selves”
There were also banners that expressed a different angel , one read, “Let the Headless run on their treadmills , there’s bigger problems in the world”.Unquote.
Problems yes, but Miracles as well! In 2015 we saw the come back of the bumble fly honey butter bee which nearly went into complete extinction, but thanks to the good folks at Monsanto, the bumble fly honey butter bee is out there making the world a more flowering fruitful and survivably fascinating place! The genteticly modified insects are now onsale.
The larva start up kit is now Available in the non stinging variety in bulk at your local Walgreens.
Available in striped Violet and glow in the dark and Monarch black and yellow.
In 2012 President Knock on Wood Obama was asked what he thought about the final closing of the MacDonald’s franchise . “ McDonalds was a franscise that made many people happy, but many people very sick” Said President Knock on Wood Obama . “The law suits against the hamburger giant were righteous due to years of producing a product of negligent quality” Unquote.
The past decade has also seen many inventions. Who would have thought that a water purification system could be so effective on such a large scale? The floods along the Mississippi have been cleaned from Memphis all the way to New Orleans and the water that was siphoned and cleaned is now 100 % purified. One can hardly tell the bottled flood water from a bottle of Poland Spring which now goes for about 10.00$ a liter .
We have met quite a few people here at this point in history, we have seen an influx of Tibetan Monks into the USA who have helped shape our ideas , and we have seen the corporations tower so very high and we have seen them collapse onto them selves and eachother. However no one will ever forget December 2012 when the world ended.
Mayans and regular working class folks from allover the world both agreed, “That was a total BLAST, a real BLAST! " Unquote.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
2nd chakra coming soon
Hello!
On June 3rd, New Moon in Gemini, the next round of writing prompts will begin! If there is anything you'd like to write regarding the 1st chakra, please go ahead. Also, check out the prompt that TJ sent - interesting to wonder how the world will be 10 years from now!
As we move from the 1st to the 2nd chakra, kundalini starts to rise. This is where kundalini release begins - orgasm, exercise (movement, fluidity), and creativity. This is where we begin to put ourselves out to the world - we take what we experience and reflect on it. We first notice people and things "outside" of our tribe between the ages of 3 and 7. We like to make things, and push boundaries and we develop our unique "taste" for things.
There is a push and pull with the 2nd chakra. It is where we develop our sense of personal identity, and at the same time it is where we develop our relationships. It is through relationships that we become conscious of who we are. Every relationship, whether casual or intimate, has a lesson for us. The 2nd chakra is our ethical center, where we develop our sense of honor, where we make choices creatively, sexually, and emotionally. This is where our emotions begin to move, and where we need to be fluid enough to let them inform us so that we may continue expanding our consciousness. This is where we must balance fear and faith, control and choas, creativity and finances.
Often our society regiments creativity, our connection to our emotions, and our sense of curiosity, right out of us. This is where we get to claim what is our birthright. This is where we allow our inner-freak flag fly!
Much joy and many discoveries in this next 3 weeks of exploration!~
On June 3rd, New Moon in Gemini, the next round of writing prompts will begin! If there is anything you'd like to write regarding the 1st chakra, please go ahead. Also, check out the prompt that TJ sent - interesting to wonder how the world will be 10 years from now!
As we move from the 1st to the 2nd chakra, kundalini starts to rise. This is where kundalini release begins - orgasm, exercise (movement, fluidity), and creativity. This is where we begin to put ourselves out to the world - we take what we experience and reflect on it. We first notice people and things "outside" of our tribe between the ages of 3 and 7. We like to make things, and push boundaries and we develop our unique "taste" for things.
There is a push and pull with the 2nd chakra. It is where we develop our sense of personal identity, and at the same time it is where we develop our relationships. It is through relationships that we become conscious of who we are. Every relationship, whether casual or intimate, has a lesson for us. The 2nd chakra is our ethical center, where we develop our sense of honor, where we make choices creatively, sexually, and emotionally. This is where our emotions begin to move, and where we need to be fluid enough to let them inform us so that we may continue expanding our consciousness. This is where we must balance fear and faith, control and choas, creativity and finances.
Often our society regiments creativity, our connection to our emotions, and our sense of curiosity, right out of us. This is where we get to claim what is our birthright. This is where we allow our inner-freak flag fly!
Much joy and many discoveries in this next 3 weeks of exploration!~
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Manifestation is Fun
so, three main things i want to manifest:
1. a healthy relationship with my physical body
* continue taking and teaching yoga
* find ways to make money that I really enjoy and where i am not sitting around for 8 hours a day (in the meantime, see about getting my desk set up so that I can stand rather than sit)
* be active
* get at least 7 hours of sleep every night
* stop picking at all of my "imperfections"
* come to terms with having a womanly body
* pay attention to what my body is telling me (eat when i'm hungry, sleep when i'm tired, dance when i feel like it, rest)
* buy nice clothes for myself to celebrate my physicality
* buy a good mattress!
* acquire the proper gear for all of my sporting activities - hiking, biking, camping, yoga
* continue seeing my chiropractor
* continue getting regular massages
* continue taking my herbs
* tell myself something loving everyday until it becomes second nature
* eat plenty of locally grown organic produce
being out of nyc has helped me tremendously with this. i don't have to work constantly and my environment is more loving in general, which makes it easier to be more loving toward myself and others. oh, and chicks with big thighs aren't unusual here either, as there are many cyclists in town.
also, being away from my family helps. as i get grounded here in the high desert, it's been easier for me to shake off some of the hang-ups i've inherited from my family. i accept that my mom is always going to be concerned about my "size" - i choose to believe she's not being judgmental, but that it's her way of showing that she cares. i think body type and size are important in my family because my mom's parents were athletes - grandpa was a swimmer and grandma was a gymnast.
2. to be making at least $1000.00 a week teaching yoga part-time. i'd also like to add to my income by writing, having workshops, reiki, painting, and the amazon herb company.
* continue teaching yoga at northern arizona university
* explore teaching at mountain waves healing arts center
* continue taking classes at mountain waves
* take classes at other studios
* go deeper with more teacher's training and/or retreats
* create writing and yoga workshops and retreats
* find places to do and teach reiki
* write articles about yoga, reiki, the creative process
* introduce my clientele to the amazon herb company
* once that gets going, begin painting more
* continue writing and send work out to editors weekly
* publish articles and poetry and fiction and books
* show paintings, sell work
* quit my day job once i'm comfortable making 50K a year doing what i love
* broaden my circle out to sedona, phoenix, tucson, santa fe, toas, boulder, denver, moab, northern california, oregon, seattle, vancouver, costa rica and on and on
3. travel the western united states via bicycle with my partner and find the perfect place for us to build our eco-home together.
* admit that having a companion who really loves me unconditionally and who is happy and healthy is important to me and something that i need in my life. it rocks!
* continue to explore love and what it means
* continue looking for love and joy in this world - and be grateful for it
* nurture!
* find ways to have workshops in all the places we travel to
* set up poetry/book readings on our journeys
* sell herbs on the journeys
* find land, buy it, build
* have a freakin' huge housewarming!
* live sustainably and happily
Monday, May 26, 2008
You get what you kneed.
There I am a new lizard beside a soft wet egg shell.
I see that I am clumbsy and cute and crawling and drueling.
On a carpet in the late 1960’s where every toy is fumbled with.
I am blond and light and boney with little thin teeth and ready to get involved.
One example, My Dad was painting some window frames, he left the paint brush in a pan and went in to the kitchen, when he came back , he saw me painting, slumping the white paint onto the glass of the window at age four .Little monkey do what he see big monkey do. It was cute, but I guess I got spanked or something.
I actually believe I had all that I needed. There was nothing that I wasn’t receiving that I needed.
Oh maybe big boobies full of beer and flying fairies that could threw me into a glide like a paper squirrel plane as they caught me as I landed in the tropical flumes of warm blue water, while talking parrots filled in for the lack of understanding and creative companionship my siblings were lacking, but I don’t hold it against them.
It was the 70’s! We had wonderfully stupid television shows like this:
And GREAT movies like this:
I listened to some fine music growing up then too:
What I would have liked this child to know is this. You don’t have a “Learning Disability” You simply have a Learning DIFFERENTbility. That’s what I have found, the stupid teachers and such did’nt know enough that I was simply Learning differentabled but abled non the less.
Fully grown adults can be stupider that you can possibly imagine. And so I leave the boy to find his own truths. Truths about work and Money :
.
Truths about the church of Jesus:The truth about love and sex:
and last but not least the truth that life isn’t always about winning the race:
Racing up the Sidewalk circa 1970
.That’s me trailing behind in a race up the side walk 1970 at age 3 &1/2.
As far as getting what you want or need , well, here are some fine gentlemen who I believe got it right!:
I see that I am clumbsy and cute and crawling and drueling.
On a carpet in the late 1960’s where every toy is fumbled with.
I am blond and light and boney with little thin teeth and ready to get involved.
One example, My Dad was painting some window frames, he left the paint brush in a pan and went in to the kitchen, when he came back , he saw me painting, slumping the white paint onto the glass of the window at age four .Little monkey do what he see big monkey do. It was cute, but I guess I got spanked or something.
I actually believe I had all that I needed. There was nothing that I wasn’t receiving that I needed.
Oh maybe big boobies full of beer and flying fairies that could threw me into a glide like a paper squirrel plane as they caught me as I landed in the tropical flumes of warm blue water, while talking parrots filled in for the lack of understanding and creative companionship my siblings were lacking, but I don’t hold it against them.
It was the 70’s! We had wonderfully stupid television shows like this:
And GREAT movies like this:
I listened to some fine music growing up then too:
What I would have liked this child to know is this. You don’t have a “Learning Disability” You simply have a Learning DIFFERENTbility. That’s what I have found, the stupid teachers and such did’nt know enough that I was simply Learning differentabled but abled non the less.
Fully grown adults can be stupider that you can possibly imagine. And so I leave the boy to find his own truths. Truths about work and Money :
.
Truths about the church of Jesus:The truth about love and sex:
and last but not least the truth that life isn’t always about winning the race:
Racing up the Sidewalk circa 1970
.That’s me trailing behind in a race up the side walk 1970 at age 3 &1/2.
As far as getting what you want or need , well, here are some fine gentlemen who I believe got it right!:
We need a new ritual (1st draft)
Jimi was a genius What would he think of the world if he were alive now? Where did the freedom go? Ritual chaos. Not the same as the pounding fast thrash of today - regimented war-cry. No, there was a resonance, a sustain. Our National Anthem completely shredded and put back together so a generation could own it again.
I feel like I’m between generations, a generation without a meaningful song to call our own. Can’t even say punk was my generation.
MTV Top 40 Oblivion, I've never been able to swallow it.
Consume. Consume. I see fire consuming our flag, burning, this time gone, completely up in smoke (and mirrors). Our only choice is to transmute the red, white and blue.
Transmute ourselves to transmute the world. If we only believed that we are already enlightened. (Jimi knew that)
Feet sinking in mud, deep, stuck, torso contorting and writhing. I can’t move my legs, but I want to dance somehow anyway. Writhing here, stuck and sinking. Quicksand, a slow suck sink. But still, I’m compelled to throw my arms in the air and bend over backward.
Liberty, I believe in you. Freedom, you can save me.
No one could spell it out like Jimi. Distorted, contorted Freedom? Did he know that the shit was gonna keep hitting the fan?
Does anybody really know what Freedom is? Talk of Freedom is on the airwaves everyday, while most of my life I’ve experienced one form of slavery or another. I don’t know what it’s like not to work, to have disposable income, or to have a siesta without guilt. I’m just beginning to figure out that there’s no point in worrying about money because I’ll either have it, or I won’t, or I’ll owe it. No big surprises.
Freedom to me is having the ability to put my hands in cool pure dirt and smell its cleanliness, to know that I can grow food that will nourish me. Freedom is the ability to walk wherever I please without having to spend money to do it. Freedom is the ability to love and be loved unconditionally. Freedom is the ability to make choices about my body, to decide if I will have children or not, to have all the choices available to me when I need them. Freedom is not having to work all the time just to survive. Freedom is knowing what I’m eating and where it comes from (back to growing it myself). Freedom is having the time to sit down and have a delicious relaxed meal with loved ones, time to make art, to make love, to read, to write, to have meaningful relationships, conversations, to share ideas, to listen to and to make music.
Freedom is knowing that there is more to life than getting up, going to work, coming home, closing our doors to "foreigners" and "terrorists", flipping on the TV, shopping online, sinking in our fears and closing our hearts and minds to connecting and evolving and making a difference.
We need to start blowing each other’s minds again.
Consume. Consume. I see fire consuming our flag, burning, this time gone, completely up in smoke (and mirrors). Our only choice is to transmute the red, white and blue.
Transmute ourselves to transmute the world. If we only believed that we are already enlightened. (Jimi knew that)
Feet sinking in mud, deep, stuck, torso contorting and writhing. I can’t move my legs, but I want to dance somehow anyway. Writhing here, stuck and sinking. Quicksand, a slow suck sink. But still, I’m compelled to throw my arms in the air and bend over backward.
Liberty, I believe in you. Freedom, you can save me.
No one could spell it out like Jimi. Distorted, contorted Freedom? Did he know that the shit was gonna keep hitting the fan?
Does anybody really know what Freedom is? Talk of Freedom is on the airwaves everyday, while most of my life I’ve experienced one form of slavery or another. I don’t know what it’s like not to work, to have disposable income, or to have a siesta without guilt. I’m just beginning to figure out that there’s no point in worrying about money because I’ll either have it, or I won’t, or I’ll owe it. No big surprises.
Freedom to me is having the ability to put my hands in cool pure dirt and smell its cleanliness, to know that I can grow food that will nourish me. Freedom is the ability to walk wherever I please without having to spend money to do it. Freedom is the ability to love and be loved unconditionally. Freedom is the ability to make choices about my body, to decide if I will have children or not, to have all the choices available to me when I need them. Freedom is not having to work all the time just to survive. Freedom is knowing what I’m eating and where it comes from (back to growing it myself). Freedom is having the time to sit down and have a delicious relaxed meal with loved ones, time to make art, to make love, to read, to write, to have meaningful relationships, conversations, to share ideas, to listen to and to make music.
Freedom is knowing that there is more to life than getting up, going to work, coming home, closing our doors to "foreigners" and "terrorists", flipping on the TV, shopping online, sinking in our fears and closing our hearts and minds to connecting and evolving and making a difference.
We need to start blowing each other’s minds again.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
I Create My Life
I create my life, not a life.
I go beyond the limitation of the physical eye and swim down deep, to the place of where peace and passion begin, the base of the spine, the sleeping snake awake. Walls dissolve and muscles contract. Push and pull of spatial (un)reality. Contour, condor, eagle.
When the eagle and the condor come together, something amazing is supposed to happen to the world. When the Shakti and Shiva unite, we are all One.
I move beyond other people’s fears. I woke up and forgot what fear was—right now, I don’t know what it is. I am just waking up and moving through my life toward whatever I enjoy
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Why else do I have this body? Why would I choose to incarnate here and now if I wasn’t going to enjoy it?
* * * * *
I was walking home from work one evening, and as I put the key in the door of my building, it dawned on me that I don’t have to get everything right in this lifetime. I don’t have to do it all! Then I thought, “What a relief!” It was as if I lost 600 pounds.
I go beyond the limitation of the physical eye and swim down deep, to the place of where peace and passion begin, the base of the spine, the sleeping snake awake. Walls dissolve and muscles contract. Push and pull of spatial (un)reality. Contour, condor, eagle.
When the eagle and the condor come together, something amazing is supposed to happen to the world. When the Shakti and Shiva unite, we are all One.
I move beyond other people’s fears. I woke up and forgot what fear was—right now, I don’t know what it is. I am just waking up and moving through my life toward whatever I enjoy
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Why else do I have this body? Why would I choose to incarnate here and now if I wasn’t going to enjoy it?
* * * * *
I was walking home from work one evening, and as I put the key in the door of my building, it dawned on me that I don’t have to get everything right in this lifetime. I don’t have to do it all! Then I thought, “What a relief!” It was as if I lost 600 pounds.
© May 25, 2008 Holly Troy
Friday, May 23, 2008
Hyphens
You have just learned that a child has been named after you. What is that like? How do you feel?
Oh baby, a name is a song of fingerprints a thought is just a bubble of smoke.
A name, A handle on the side of the head, a suitcase full of rainy wet papers from Costa Rica.
Monkeys are cute, I want to drink exotic drinks of various flowery colors at an out door bar where the water is as blue as an iris that surrounds a pupil of black.
I don’t care what anybody names their baby anymore Just lay off the Hifins ..high-fans Hi – fans .......you know these things “-“ that join two last names together to make one last name. Stop that non- sense at once!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyphen
Oh baby, a name is a song of fingerprints a thought is just a bubble of smoke.
A name, A handle on the side of the head, a suitcase full of rainy wet papers from Costa Rica.
Monkeys are cute, I want to drink exotic drinks of various flowery colors at an out door bar where the water is as blue as an iris that surrounds a pupil of black.
I don’t care what anybody names their baby anymore Just lay off the Hifins ..high-fans Hi – fans .......you know these things “-“ that join two last names together to make one last name. Stop that non- sense at once!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyphen
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Saying NO
No. Wavering flickering salmon pink. My stomach tightens, loosens, quivers. No. Sorry. No. Uh, no. Uh-uh. Steady flowing cerise. My jaw tightens and sets hard. No. And you know what? I'm NOT sorry for saying it. I'm tired of pretending that I am sorry for saying it, so I will say it again. No. I don't think so. Stop sign red. Big, bold. STOP. My knees lock like bolts tightening on a rickety frame. This girl ain't gonna shake anymore. No. NO. N.O. Burgundy rises from my feet to my knees to my gut. No wavering here, I'm not sucking it up anymore. I'm so present I feel like I'm out of my body.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
A Letter To my Ancestors.
Letter to my ancestors.
Dear folks,
My name is TJK Haywood.(Born Thomas Joseph Kiernan, I am a Grandchild of Elizabeth and William A. Kiernan on the paternal side and the Grandchild of Pearl Wells and Sidney Michael Parker on the maternal side).
I chose the name Haywood for my self actually I can’t help feeling like it was chosen for me when I was 15 years old, at that time I had been recently cured of a life threatening Illness and hence a new lease on life was bestowed upon my soul. A metamorphosis was about to happen. I, not so coincidently fell deeply in love with a woman who’s last name is Hagood at one time in my life.However I have no offsping and the mere possibility of myself spawning with a loved one is pivotally dependent on the survival of the honey bee.( All Food sorces on Earth are endangered as of 2008 in my assessment).
I am also known as Wooden Thomas as a songwriter and Guitar player, I can not sing correctly or keep a steady rhythm, my spelling is so bad that I have to type to you all on a machine that automaticly corrects my spelling for me as I go along, andfir this I am thankfull , because I am one lazy son of a bitch! (I do use the pen nib and the India ink though ,often but mostly for drawing). I can’t live with out creating.
The year as you read this is 1708. Some of you may be receiving this letter while working in a vegetable garden, others may be receiving this while breaking for lunch or “tea” , some of you Irish folks are probably drinking vodka at the pub with the milk of teets dryed on your hands right early in the morning busting jokes about Queen Anne http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_of_Great_Britain . Or maybe you are just waking up, if so, go back to sleep. This letter is going directly into your subconscious anyway and you’ll never remember it.
Your fantasies of the “New World” are noble and understandable.
But I must tell you, the “Indians” you will encounter here are not mere savages they are tribes of intelligent humans who are understandably angry that they will be invaded by you white folks.
I am a man who serves Peace. Peace is my lord . Even when it is difficult to do so I serve Peace. I listen to what Peace has to say, I try to filter out the anger and the distain, even though I fail at being 100 percent Peacful. I will always let Peace prevail for it is my lord.
I do not worship Jesus of Nazareth . I admire him. I do not worship the Buddha of Asia, although I am a fan of his. Mother Mary and others whom you , my ancestors have not yet heard of , Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr , Dennis Kucinich these are people whom share my religion.
There is a Song Written by another decendant of The Drake Family circa 1970. The song is a beautiful song called “Time Has Told Me’’ his name was Nick Drake. My great Grand Parents were Drakes from the same area his family is from ,Tanworth in Arden . I will conclude this letter with the lyrics of this beautiful song for he , like me , is your descendent.
Times will be tough for all of you. But never give up your hopes and dreams because the enjoyment of life is the goal. To party and bond and learn and create break bread and break wind and help others to do so too are the goals.
Many of you, I know very little about. Some of you, from England will have arrived in Brooklyn USA within the next century . All of the Irish relatives, on my paternal side will find home in New Jersey. Do me a favor and keep Brooklyn and New Jersey beautiful , for too much industrialization causes environ-MENTAL Pollution.
The photograph may not have been invented yet, but I have seen a painting of Queen Anne on Wikipedia and Man was she a hot number!
I wish to be with you all one gorgeous and rainy day in a pub, one where people dine as families, where men throw darts and children learn how to drink and smoke.
All the working and dreaming and playing that I imagine you do will survive in my DNA , that is to say my blood, and my subconscious mind , that is to say the deeper streams and rivers and oceans of my brain where dreams come from.
Take good care of each other and Thank You for Fornicating.
TJK Haywood, (Wooden Thomas).
“Time Has Told Me”
by Nick Drake:
Time has told me. You're a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. Someday our ocean. Will find its shore.
So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be. What I really don't want to be. Leave the ways that are making me love. What I really don't want to love. Time has told me. You came with the dawn. A soul with no footprint. A rose with no thorn. Your tears they tell me. There's really no way. Of ending your troubles. With things you can say. And time will tell you. To stay by my side. To keep on trying'til there's no more to hide. So leave the ways that are making you be. What you really don't want to be. Leave the ways that are making you love. What you really don't want to love. Time has told me. You're a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. For some day our ocean. Will find its shore.
Dear folks,
My name is TJK Haywood.(Born Thomas Joseph Kiernan, I am a Grandchild of Elizabeth and William A. Kiernan on the paternal side and the Grandchild of Pearl Wells and Sidney Michael Parker on the maternal side).
I chose the name Haywood for my self actually I can’t help feeling like it was chosen for me when I was 15 years old, at that time I had been recently cured of a life threatening Illness and hence a new lease on life was bestowed upon my soul. A metamorphosis was about to happen. I, not so coincidently fell deeply in love with a woman who’s last name is Hagood at one time in my life.However I have no offsping and the mere possibility of myself spawning with a loved one is pivotally dependent on the survival of the honey bee.( All Food sorces on Earth are endangered as of 2008 in my assessment).
I am also known as Wooden Thomas as a songwriter and Guitar player, I can not sing correctly or keep a steady rhythm, my spelling is so bad that I have to type to you all on a machine that automaticly corrects my spelling for me as I go along, andfir this I am thankfull , because I am one lazy son of a bitch! (I do use the pen nib and the India ink though ,often but mostly for drawing). I can’t live with out creating.
The year as you read this is 1708. Some of you may be receiving this letter while working in a vegetable garden, others may be receiving this while breaking for lunch or “tea” , some of you Irish folks are probably drinking vodka at the pub with the milk of teets dryed on your hands right early in the morning busting jokes about Queen Anne http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_of_Great_Britain . Or maybe you are just waking up, if so, go back to sleep. This letter is going directly into your subconscious anyway and you’ll never remember it.
Your fantasies of the “New World” are noble and understandable.
But I must tell you, the “Indians” you will encounter here are not mere savages they are tribes of intelligent humans who are understandably angry that they will be invaded by you white folks.
I am a man who serves Peace. Peace is my lord . Even when it is difficult to do so I serve Peace. I listen to what Peace has to say, I try to filter out the anger and the distain, even though I fail at being 100 percent Peacful. I will always let Peace prevail for it is my lord.
I do not worship Jesus of Nazareth . I admire him. I do not worship the Buddha of Asia, although I am a fan of his. Mother Mary and others whom you , my ancestors have not yet heard of , Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr , Dennis Kucinich these are people whom share my religion.
There is a Song Written by another decendant of The Drake Family circa 1970. The song is a beautiful song called “Time Has Told Me’’ his name was Nick Drake. My great Grand Parents were Drakes from the same area his family is from ,Tanworth in Arden . I will conclude this letter with the lyrics of this beautiful song for he , like me , is your descendent.
Times will be tough for all of you. But never give up your hopes and dreams because the enjoyment of life is the goal. To party and bond and learn and create break bread and break wind and help others to do so too are the goals.
Many of you, I know very little about. Some of you, from England will have arrived in Brooklyn USA within the next century . All of the Irish relatives, on my paternal side will find home in New Jersey. Do me a favor and keep Brooklyn and New Jersey beautiful , for too much industrialization causes environ-MENTAL Pollution.
The photograph may not have been invented yet, but I have seen a painting of Queen Anne on Wikipedia and Man was she a hot number!
I wish to be with you all one gorgeous and rainy day in a pub, one where people dine as families, where men throw darts and children learn how to drink and smoke.
All the working and dreaming and playing that I imagine you do will survive in my DNA , that is to say my blood, and my subconscious mind , that is to say the deeper streams and rivers and oceans of my brain where dreams come from.
Take good care of each other and Thank You for Fornicating.
TJK Haywood, (Wooden Thomas).
“Time Has Told Me”
by Nick Drake:
Time has told me. You're a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. Someday our ocean. Will find its shore.
So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be. What I really don't want to be. Leave the ways that are making me love. What I really don't want to love. Time has told me. You came with the dawn. A soul with no footprint. A rose with no thorn. Your tears they tell me. There's really no way. Of ending your troubles. With things you can say. And time will tell you. To stay by my side. To keep on trying'til there's no more to hide. So leave the ways that are making you be. What you really don't want to be. Leave the ways that are making you love. What you really don't want to love. Time has told me. You're a rare rare find. A troubled cure. For a troubled mind. And time has told me. Not to ask for more. For some day our ocean. Will find its shore.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Dinnertime!
What's happening at our dinner table? Dad is just folding up his paper and approaching now. He's not fully retrieved his energy from the mire of specifications, blueprints and office gossip.Mom deftly maneuvers a bowl of pirogies against her pregnant belly, jabs the pacifier into my sister's mouth, and raises a meaningful eyebrow at me. I lower the spoon with which I intended to pacify my sister. If I don't put it down gently, Mom will spoil the fun by yelling. She overcompensates. At three, I'm the oldest, and I know this.
Dad sits down. Mom finally dares to ask about his day. Timing is everything. Let him unwind, but don't let him rewind. Ask just before he begins stuffing food in his mouth; the trauma is thus abridged.
I understand her art even before I understand why it is necessary. I have my own art. My sister is my canvas. Sour cream, fried onions, and pirogies are my palette . . . pale, dense, and ideal for flinging. I have to wait a long time before Mom sits down and serves herself. She takes her first mouthful of food.
Timing! I push sour cream onto my spoon, then scoop and fling a bit of doughy potato dumpling into my baby sister's face. She anticipates my move and is ready with her scowl and wail. She knew it was coming. Well, we all knew it.
Stymied by my timing, Mom finishes chewing and wags her fork weakly, adding a forlorn shrug. Dad musters up his office rage and snarls at us. He is always fair. He blames us both.
My sister offers a glare far more intimidating than a two year old typically expresses. She is a master of resentment.
I realize I have mobilized her to action. They can't stop her now. Only from my seat can I see she has inadvertently plunked her bowl down on the edge of the spoon. When she bangs her fist down, the bowl is leveraged into mid-air.
Mom sighs before the first pirogi slithers to the floor. She doesn't yell! She simply looks at my father with a twisting bitterness I had not anticipated.
Why? I had acted alone to instigate my sister's fury! I earned her attention.
I could not understand it, but I could store the memory and piece it together with meaning later. Surely, there would be meaning to flesh out that mysterious look, slinking low and sullen into the wilderness of hidden conflict . . .
Sunday, May 18, 2008
To be or not to be?
Solid, solid , solid, Solid as a rock. I don’t know if I’ve ever known myself to be completely solid. Guess I’m one to enjoy remembering the space between each cell. I’m weird that way. I get more comfort in the thought of space and spirit, than the material.
Used to think money was a solid, a sure thing, but it’s all water and air; the most fluid idea we’ve got going. Money comes in and out like ocean tides. There’s a cycle, but it’s not all predictable. There are tsunamis.
I think I realized my solidness when I became most aware of my height. Probably around the time I caught up to my 4’11” grandmother and surpassed her. The first adult I outgrew. I remember feeling miles away from my feet and knowing that they were completely mine, even if my head was growing away from them.
When I was 12 or 13, I noticed my arms where beginning to have some shape, not to mention some vasculinity that comes with masculinity. I felt my body was profoundly mine. Even though I was changing, I contemplated spending years in this skin. I wondered how long these arms will be here.
Seems the exact opposite of Buddhism or "spiritual endeavors", to be solid, to be here, but it’s not really. Solidness can show that attachment is a mental construct, a denial of the ever changing nature of life. Incarnation isn’t to be transcended, but accepted. It’s not about giving up earthly pleasure, it’s knowing that it can’t be frozen….solid, I guess.
Then there’s Walt Disney, but I get a head of myself.
Used to think money was a solid, a sure thing, but it’s all water and air; the most fluid idea we’ve got going. Money comes in and out like ocean tides. There’s a cycle, but it’s not all predictable. There are tsunamis.
I think I realized my solidness when I became most aware of my height. Probably around the time I caught up to my 4’11” grandmother and surpassed her. The first adult I outgrew. I remember feeling miles away from my feet and knowing that they were completely mine, even if my head was growing away from them.
When I was 12 or 13, I noticed my arms where beginning to have some shape, not to mention some vasculinity that comes with masculinity. I felt my body was profoundly mine. Even though I was changing, I contemplated spending years in this skin. I wondered how long these arms will be here.
Seems the exact opposite of Buddhism or "spiritual endeavors", to be solid, to be here, but it’s not really. Solidness can show that attachment is a mental construct, a denial of the ever changing nature of life. Incarnation isn’t to be transcended, but accepted. It’s not about giving up earthly pleasure, it’s knowing that it can’t be frozen….solid, I guess.
Then there’s Walt Disney, but I get a head of myself.
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