I dance between
Joy and Grief
Because every moment is dying.
When your lonely, the last things you do is try to figure it all out – you don’t need to think it through – oh baby, oh darling’, oh oh baby, ive been callin’ – and you’re not pickin’ up but I know you’ll be back soon – oh when you get this message will you come through, will you come through
‘cause you know that ive been callin’ and I know what you’ve been through but im wonderin if everything can wait so you can just come through – come through- come through
Please wont you – come through, come through, come through, come through won’t you, please, oh please, come through?
This is one of the ways I create songs. My creative song writing process. The Live video is from IG, I recorded while I typed the lyrics. Freestyle songwriting.
I want my therapist to like me…
so i better not tell her where i come from. how i got here. why im here – in this chair – in her office.
after all, she’s not in mine…
I want my therapist to think im perfect,
maybe, then, I will be worthy of connection.
until then… fake it till you make it… eh?
I hope that no one sees my flaws… i hope nobody prays for me.
A metaphor for perfect… must be calibrating consciousness so that nobody sees me, as close to invisble as i can come is what i must be, if im to make it out the bottom and rise to the top from the slums of drudgery, slavery and mastery and pastor eatin’ Mickey D’s and preaching how a person must treat one of the casualties of hunger and greed, the fuel for the property tax increase the mule for the walker who passes these atrocities without sighting nothin’, without seeing nothin’, without feelin’ nothin’. Who are these folks that breath jokes and some toke and some sober and some who’s lives are already over and some who find time in a corona and some who like fizzy soda and some who don’t drink anything the preacher feeds – some who don’t look innocence in the face without a sneeze, a reboot, a tease, a future a plea for honest consciousness to rise above the drudgery – what’s this comin up under me? I’m shocked to blossoms and flowers and green leaves… what the fuck is Spring after a winter like a thousand years of pain, famine and disease… tell me how to understand the recent train of happenings – magic making, tappin’ in – tell me what the fuck is HAPPENIN’! That’s a command not a stutterin’, rumbling earth quake from the ponderin’, mind to go out wonderin’, mine to go out wanderin’ i might explore it then, new terrain and it all smells like fresh friends, new beginnings with no ends.
what instrument plays me?
with all of my infinite, perfect, harmonics.
What instrument calls me home when this body falls and life travels on?
It surely is not an instrument I’ve encountered here with strings or wood or metal
But I must know it – for it plays me now.
Perhaps it’s a star.
God, Thank You For Freezing Time For Me
See, when I asked, I didn’t know that you already knew what I wanted
And I didn’t know we’d already carved the path and run water down it filled with little wooden boats to see which could float the way and which would capsize far too soon
I didn’t know you were watching or that you knew who I am
Farsighted… I recoiled in my pain, fearing that my dreams would gestate so long that I reabsorbed them
So long that I’d fall at the feet of someone else’s vision and repeat the same mistakes agian and again and again
More pain, more fear, more pain, more fear, more pain, more fear more fear more fear
Dawn. Day broke records in half, like those songs we were singing were never meant to last
And you sent birds a’perch my windowsill and sent them tunes, new tunes, to sing me as I learned, again, to walk
And then run
And then climb
And now dance.
I feel honored to have met you so many times God. In absence and in space, in freedom and in joy, in pain and in pain and in pain…
And I thank you for not leaving me even when I thought that all was lost because now I’m finding that the path is far wider than I ever knew and other shoes on other feet are walking closely
I never knew I wanted connection so bad but now I do.
God, thank you for freezing time for me, for a while, so I could sleep.
(Written freestyle, “off the top”)
Winter feels the same each year. This kind of suffocation – like, it pulls me so deeply into my own soul that I think I’m the only thing that exists and the walls of me are the walls of the whole universe.
I guess it’s a kind of lonliness.
It pulls me in and then it spits me right out again and – God, whomever that may be, must laugh because each year as I fall from the lips of winter and drop like a hard seed in the ground – I have the same look of astonishment on my face.
Each year I exclaim, “Wow! I thought it would go on forever!”
So I wonder, I’d this year I could try doing it differently. I think I know that winter won’t last forever- I look out and see buds forming on tree branches above me and snow melting to reveal mud slapped grass.
I know that I will emerge unchanged- at my core, that is- and completely rearranged. Reorganized on the inside.
All that time inside, it really puts things in place for me.
I consider moving to Hawaii for good but I’m confused about time and so the idea of having an 8 hour difference is so odd to me I don’t think I can stand it.
What’s next? Is there a way, in the future, to explore without traveling through giant metal carriers that disrupt the sky? I hope so.
I see beams of light. I see us folding our worlds into them and between them and telling stories across the lines from one to another so we all get the message at the same time.
I see our homes stacked high, encased in light tubes that take up no space but still exist in it.
I see what I would call a dimension, right next to our own, and it belongs to us just as much as this one does.
I’m not afraid to travel there, within there, and reach out and touch here.
It’s like a form of connection I can’t even imagine.
But I got a little vision last night- of a woman who was me but looked and felt so different but so similar and felt so me. I didn’t even recognize her, like, it felt like I’d never met her yet but yet I knew her and she was me.
She was beautiful and balanced and purple and green and brown.
I think I may be becoming her or maybe the part of me that is her is coming out.
I remember- in that state which I call “mediation” where I’m in that other dimension- that I can experience things and then pull them out to hold them here. Like, remembering a dream.
It was like an email but different because it was so far beyond that. It was between me and others who were from further places and I said “I want to receive more of this!” And I knew they got the message, all at once, all clear. It was like email but better. Instantaneous thoughtform travel.
I remember that the message also had form. It was like a little cake of pourus material- like a really, really sense, wet sponge. And there was the one I accessed and there were two more that I didn’t yet.
I think they are still “there” waiting for me to “open”.
I wonder how to do it.
I feel myself becoming more efficient at this – accessing information from seemingly outside sources.
How do they have so much information about me?
How are there other aspects of me that don’t exist here?
How can I access this information all the time, on demand, whatever I need, whatever I want, whatever I ask for, whatever will help.
Is that what’s already happening?
How does the information form into matter? Like, where does this reality spring from?
When I go back there I have everything I’m asking for here.
How do I open all of the channels? How do I let my life reflect that wholeness and safety and understanding and love?
I’ll keep going there- to that space I call meditation that is seeping into so many moments of my life when I’m doing so many different things that I believe I am almost permanently placed there.
Perhaps that’s what’s shifting- me. Into another time zone.
I got home at midnight.
The sky was red and
the whole world smelled like dog food.
Everything was melting. Water bubbled up from the puddles and the black trees concealed they’re knowledge of the coming spring in tightly wound buds that I couldn’t see but knew were there,
Because I’ve been through 26 springs.
And every one of them has come on time.
It makes a person consider their life.
If I’m not separate from the nature or the cycles… then how could I really ever fight the current that carries me?
And since I know its brilliance, won’t I be pleased?
And how could I ever think that a storm could last forever, that my whole life might be dark, when I know that spring comes every time?
I don’t know why the sky is red or why the whole world smells like dog food or why people, sometimes, will take their own lives
but I know with utmost certainty that I am a moving part of this strange and unending world
and that when I die I will become another part, continuing to move and grow.
When I think like this I find more time… more time to learn, to get it right, to understand, to flounder, to make mistakes, to fall and get back up, to wait out the storm.
If I have a million lives to learn guitar and create my family and love my siblings and carry on
then what makes this one special?
The sky is red and the whole world smells like dog food.
Before there was you there was we…
a central star,
a sun like any other but it was ours.
and you may not remember it as you pray to unknown Gods or tell stories of the past that you think frame you, box you, make you…
but one day you will melt back into the cosmic soup and the spirit that now calls order to your flesh will know it’s way home.
and this in every moment is the truth;
never did we forget you or leave you alone,
part of you rests here and when it is time for you to return we will call out your name by tone.