Your Sky

A yoga teacher recently made a remark about reaching upwards during the practice. She used the words "your sky." I thought that was quite poetic...

Not your childhood, not your choice

Not your beliefs, not your voice

Sent to school to learn as they believe

Following their directions as well as their needs

But it’s yours to take back … reclaim, recover

It’s your life to, once again, create and discover

As you lay down on grass, without a question why

You fall into the sublime and your very own sky

It’s your sky – you peer into a world of forever

It’s your sky – you float upwards upon a feather

Your sky – you’re the one who calls in rain and clouds

Your sky – you’re the one who tears it apart with doubts

Your sky – a blank canvas with infinity as a backdrop

Your sky – you alone can make the thunder and rain stop

No longer holding chains from the past, you can start anew

You can paint in all colors magenta, indigo, green and blue

You can take a stand for who you are beyond preconceived beliefs

You can recall your playful and joyful spirit that resides far underneath

This is your day, this is your time, this is the moment to fly

It’s your life, it’s your soul’s journey, it’s your sky

Your sky – no need to struggle or try

No longer the dread of barely getting by

Your sky – ascend into the realm near the rays of the sun

Your time, your life – forever in this moment begun

There is that which was never born and never will die

It’s found in your heart and soul; it’s found in your sky

Your sky

Overcoming the Heady Stuff with Heart Stuff

My heart is not happy.

My head has taken over. And it just won't stop yacking.

Someone shut it up. It's got me going in 100 directions at once, none of which feel like the right direction.

You know that feeling of peace in your mind when you know you are on your path, doing what needs to be done, at the right pace and the right time ... all in Divine Order? Yeah, I don't got that.

Right now - the mind is splintered and having me attend to 10 different pathways of career - writing, healing work, video work, book sales, speaking, professional napper. None of these feel right as I step one step onto that path. Because of this indecision and lack of true inspiration, I find myself feeling as if I am spinning wheels even if I'm taking tons of action.

Have you been there? I don't think I've been here before, precisely in this sort of stress.

My mind is racing.

And my heart is not happy.

Head says:  bills are out of control, I'm out of control, there isn't enough time, I'm running out of time, I must hurry, I'm not good enough, someone is always better than me, I don't have what I need, I'm doomed.

Heart says: Look at the puppy, look at the garden, let's take a walk, let's have a laugh, let's call mom, let's call sister, all is well, I can relax now, all is taken care of, I am one with spirit, how could I ever take all of this so seriously?

So - given this battle of head over heart - what is one to do? Well, first off, I was guided to WRITE ABOUT IT. Get it down on paper. Express myself. Journal my experiences with this. So that led to this blog. (Hope it's helping someone else besides me.) Next comes running, exercising, moving this body of mind, so the pent-up energy can get some activity and hopefully process some of that angst through me. Finally comes meditation - where I sit still and simply watch the thoughts arise and fall, from the vantage point (one can hope) from a centered place that is the observer of my life.

Supposedly, there is this centered soul in there. An identity that is not moved by life's ups and downs. It simply observes, watches, and takes in any lessons that the silly human must endure. It holds the peace, joy and bliss that always exists behind the scenes.

And so I will do all this. Journal, blog, run, meditate and observe.

With prayer, it will help still this manic mind, soothe this savage soul, rest the weary traveler.

I want my heart back. I want the head to take a back seat and quiet its relentless ramblings. I want my heart back. I want to feel that love feeling flow from it as I bliss out knowing all is well, I am taken care of, and that I can lavish positive vibes and actions upon my loved ones. I want my heart back so I can feel my true worth and be my true self.

My head had taken over. Now it's time for my heart to speak. And to be happy again.

Why Do I Care If Others are Healthy?

The question came last Saturday morning at the Hyatt Regency in Long Beach. It was at the annual HEAL Zone Resident and Youth Leaders event, which brought together community leaders from around Southern California to discuss strategies to get people to practice "healthy eating, active living."


Sounds pretty purposeful huh? Little did I know how purposeful. It took a specific question to get me there.

During part of the 
proceedings, there came the routine question about our personal reason for attending the conference. Hmmm. Why do I do so much work so that people are healthier in my community?

That made me think of how much time I spend as a volunteer to support other people. I mean on the surface, it didn't really make too much sense. Here I am, a person still looking for real-time work but giving my time and energy for the health of others.

The question made me think of some pretty quick surface answers: so my community is happier, so my community living a better life.

The question made me also think that there must be some deeper and primal reason that existed way below the surface. 

The question made me think, actually, about this one movie called "Hear My Song."


In this film, an English man travels to Ireland to locate a famous singer who had gone underground for tax purposes. The whole movie, the man was trying to find this singer so he could ask him to return to England again. During one intense climactic scene, the English man - who wasn't trusted by those who guarded the singer - was pushed towards a steep cliff and was held by his feet, dangling there head facing down. As he dangled there so close to death, the singer had a chance to finally ask his stalker: "why are you doing this?"



The answers came like the peeling of an onion, one layer at a time.

"I'm doing it for your singing career." (Bullshit.)

"I'm doing for the people!" (Bullshit.)

"I'm doing it for the woman I love. I'm doing it for Nancy." (Bingo)


In this surrender to the deeper truth, the man was brought up from his dangling predicament and thrown onto a nearby lawn, where he laid there in a blissed out state that can only come from the reflection of the deepest truth. 

 So my answers came without me having to be dangling high above the Cliffs of Moher:

"I'm doing it for the community member." (Bullshit.)

"I'm doing it for the health of the city."  (Bullshit.)

"I'm doing it for my mom." (Bingo)

For in the days when my mom was healthy, she would garden. She would love to spend time outside tending the soil, pulling the weeds, and planting some beautiful flowers. There was a time she was indeed quite athletic - playing baseball with the neighborhood kids, playing tennis with me, catching my sister's pitching. This was all before the arthritis. This was all before the brittleness. All before the fall.

Deep down, I never want anyone to be sick. It's too heartbreaking, even for an old kid like me. For the sake of my mother, in honor of her, and in the deep desire to support in others what my mother so desperately needed, I take a stand for everyone's health. It's something in which I can find purpose ... with all my heart.

So Much That You Care – So Little That You Know

Just when you thought you were stuck. Just when you thought your inability to make a certain celebration or special event was the final say on the matter. Just when you thought there was nothing you could do.

Little do you know.

This is a story of getting out of your way so others in your life can really receive from you in a way you might not imagine possible.

Quick story: I have a pal who was invited to a recent birthday dinner gathering for my wife. Since this man works in a business that has unpredictable hours, all he could say about attending the dinner was his infamous, “I’ll do my best.”

Now, an entire article could be written about the phrase “I’ll do my best.” But we’ll just keep it at his best didn’t include showing up or even communicating after the celebration was over.

Later on, realizing that my wife does enjoy the positive attention surrounding her birthday, I let the man know that overlooking the birthday, simply throwing out a trite “I’ll do my best” and then forgoing any other communication did not offer the care I knew existed in that baby baboon heart of his. In the past, my pal had sent cool celebratory e-mails that my wife enjoyed. Knowing this, I invited him to, without obligation, do something like his fun e-mail messages if he still wanted to lighten another person’s day. In the end, he did send one of those goofy and fun birthday e-mail messages. And it did brighten the day of my wife.

Geewiz! If people only knew. If they only knew how easy it is to make another person smile. If they knew that they did not have to attend a specific event to still have presence and impact. Is it even possible to attend every event to which you are invited? No. But even so, we can all realize that showing up doesn’t have to fall on the precise date that may hold a conflict for us. There is always a way to show up, to be present, to send the care.

Wake up world. Wake up people. You may not be able to be in two places at the same time. But you can – with a bit of creativity, drive and awareness – have your love and care be in many. many places at once.

A Change of Attitude for the Cops

Cops.

Oh no, not the cops.

You know about these law enforcement officers – hiding behind that billboard sign or bush, speed gun in hand, awaiting for the next false move so they can catch the next unsuspecting victim and hand them a bulky ticket so that the city to which they serve can get that much more fat.

Cops. You know what I’m talking about. The insensitive, moneymakers for the state, finding the smallest disorderly conduct so you can be punished, and so the government machine can be fed more of your money.

Cops – those meanies, those "cherry tops," those Officer Krupkes – all of which you have to be on the look out for. Not so you can be law-abiding citizens, but so you can outmaneuver them in the fake dance of law and order.

OK, OK – so this is how I used to look at the police. Pretty dark and dreary huh?

Whenever I traveled the roads and highways, and a black-and-white came up from behind me, I felt my blood pressure rise, my adrenaline surge and my stress increase. I would hold my breath and think, “Oh no, not the police, what will they want?”

Of course, I’ve had my share of encounters being pulled over, mainly for speeding, in the past. So I had real memories – on a practical and cellular level – of the experience of having an officer behind me lead to the stopping of my car and the unfortunate lengthy experience of dealing with a ticket. So my response to seeing any cop anywhere may be understandable.

And yet. A new experience.

The strangest thing happened to me. The other day, I noticed a policeman driving behind me, and my response was: “Oh cool, that’s nice to see.” What? How can that be?

In hindsight, I now can see the cause of the shift of mind, and it’s a valuable experience from which we all may gain insight.

In the time period between my two very different responses, I had started a new video project, one which focused on the potential PTSD that law officers must deal with while on duty. In my keen attention on the needs of the police personnel, I must have made a shift from anger and upset and towards compassion and understanding of the officer’s conditions. In that act of addressing their needs, such an alignment with them closed the gap within my mind.

So these people aren’t just an enemy trying to go after me. These are real men and women on a beat that is highly dangerous for their own physical, emotional and mental well-being. I made the shift in my own mind, and this altered my reality and reactions.

Perhaps such a shift can happen for any of us, and not simply for those wearing badges and carrying speed guns. Perhaps addressing the plight of another, perhaps walking in their shoes if even for just a few moments, can create such a shift – from anxiety to calm, from enmity to unity, from fear to love.

The shift for me was profound, conscious and authentic.

It is a shift I wish for any one of us living in conflict with another – even if only in our own minds.

A Poem of Freedom

And so I sit still in meditation

Searching for that clear concentration

Really, really, realizing that real realization

Not this myopic mayhem of mental masturbation

Nor this constant, constant consternation

For in my enlightened endeavor to be free

These are the thoughts that come to me ...

Chocolate and sex and then sex some more

Ben and Jerry's ... should I go to the store?

Should I cut my lawn; should I do my taxes?

I can receive e-mails; I can't receive faxes

What does that have to do with anything?

When I was young, I would run and jump and play and sing

What should I be doing besides sitting here?

My mind, my brain, my ego, my fear!

Now – STOP – back to my endeavor to be free

... But these are the thoughts that come to me

Chocolate and money and then money some more

I wish everything was free at the mall and the store

What job should I do? Will there be enough?

I have to have money to pay for my stuff

But stuff is stupid – fuck it – I should live in the woods

Free from the "have tos" and "must haves" and "shoulds"

Who needs a big bank account, an overflowing pocket?

Chocolate, chocolate ... chocolate, chocolate, chocolate

Sex and sex and sex. Sex, sex, sex.

I wonder if it would be wrong to ring up my ex

I wish it would STOP – I am sitting here to be free

... But these are the thoughts that come to me

Dear Lord – now I bow. I invoke. I beg. I pray

Can you please be so kind to take these thoughts away?

Amma, Baba, Rama, and all that rhymes with ama

Where are the answers – the Bible? The Gita? The Obama?

No. The answer is right here if I could stop this damn mind

Then the world would be peaceful, gentle and kind

So now the time is here! I shall stop and just listen

To the voice that is pure, to hear what I'm missing ...

"... Please ... do not fight it, do not push against thoughts

Here is where you get trapped, imprisoned ... caught

Remember there was a time before everything

Remember the times when you would run, jump and sing

Be present – that's all – for the thoughts that will be

And then you will be able to enjoy what is free

For who is the one who can be present for all

This is the one who can hear another call

I will be with you right here – with the thoughts that will go

You are the watcher, the presence, the soul"

... And so ... I sit still in meditation

Searching for that clear concentration

But discover that the thoughts – hey yeah – they're OK

Just be with them now, and let them have their say

They aren't hurting anyone if I can give them their space

They will have their own journey, at their own time and pace

I will sit here and be with all that I can

And know that I am that I am that I am

Remember

Remember who you are

Below the scar

Beyond the wounds and wicked moments

Past darkened hallways of a history enshrined in pain

And shame and blame

Remember who you are

Beneath the scar

Prior to that first heartbreak

Yes, that loss

Yes, that loss

The one untold to even the closest confidant

Remember who you are

Because of the scar

Born of the time in the fire

Molded through life’s towering mountains and harsh valleys

It’s taken you inward, so near and so far

Remember who you are

Remember who you are

The 4th of July - A Portrait of America

Written in the form of a "Poetry Portrait," the subject this time isn't a loved one or family member, but a nation so many of us know and love.

A portrait of America

A portrait of the brave

A stand for freedom everywhere

"Piece of Paper" - GW Bush

Right here in the USA

A portrait of America

A portrait of lady liberty

The pursuit of joy and happiness  

From sea to shining sea

A portrait of hope and dreams

A landscape for the dutiful

Protecting our founding documents

A portrait of America the beautiful

A history paints a picture

The textbooks carry the stories

From the darkest hours of slavery

To the cheers of ticker-tape glories

Existing prior to borders

The land stood just the same

Grand Canyon, Niagara, Yosemite

All without a name

Pioneers and Pilgrims

Would come to take a stand

Escaping persecution and injury

Bringing law they could understand

A new world in St. Augustine

And Jamestown to name just two

Cutting up streets and building houses

Building a future that’s new

Trading pelts and making deals

And sharing Thanksgiving dinner

A choice of honoring or raping the land 

Who would be the winner?

The Kings of England had their wills

But what a bunch of asses

Soon we’d hear “the British are coming”

As so would come the taxes

The party was all about Boston tea

Let’s dump this load overboard

That taxation without representation

What a tyrannical bastard landlord

A Philadelphia Continental Congress

Let’s ring the Liberty Bell

The declaration came from Jefferson

The revolutionary war was hell

But we got our rightful independence

Our Bill of Rights were groovin’

Our Constitution kept honest the government

In order for a more perfect union

A portrait of America

Upon a foundation it stands

A steady and solid Constitution

This land is your land

A commitment to equality

A dedication to our rights

Citizens banding against tyranny

Patriots fighting the good fight

A pursuit of sacred honor

A battlefield of the dutiful

Protecting our lifelong liberty

A portrait of America the beautiful

Founding Fathers and Jim, circa now.

Louisiana Purchase, and Lewis and Clark

Expanded what there was to explore

The legacy of battles and bitterness

The Mexican and Indian wars

California boomed with its gold rush

Prospectors clamored to discover

The Civil War fought on American soil

Saw brother killing his brother

The Emancipation Proclamation

Honest Abe – he did his part

The end of one type of slavery

With new kinds about to start

Another boom – this time in industry

The factory whistle would blow

Roosevelt T. and his Panama Canal

The East and West would grow

Kitty Hawk – the flying machines

Would take off into the sky

World War I would soon come to be

And so many more would die

Financial institutions started to advance

Bankers salivated with greed

A 16th Amendment went after our taxes

The Feds dreamed their dirty deeds

The 1920s – they definitely roared

The cars started down the highway

An era of prohibiting the betting and booze

Women’s rights would grant equal say

The Wall Street crash was surely depressing

A nation growing out of infancy

A New Deal couldn’t alter the trend

It took Pearl Harbor and a Day of Infamy

Rah Rah – let’s go off and fight some more

Until Johnny comes marching home

World War II would have its deaths too

Planting seeds that would someday be sewn

The Truman Doctrine and his two big bombers

Would bring Japanese to their knees

The Enola Gay would have the last say

And evaporate two entire cities

The 1950s gave us Happy Days

The Fair Deal and plenty of cash

Though Joseph McCarthy gave us scary TV

The Korean War at least gave us MASH

A portrait of America

A portrait of the brave

A stand for freedom everywhere

Right here in the USA

A portrait of hope and dreams

A landscape for the dutiful

Protecting our founding testament

A portrait of America the beautiful

A baby boom led to a Disney tune

Along with Disneyland rides

The civil rights movement, thank God Almighty

Saw a march to shift racial tides

John F. Kennedy – a public execution

Lyndon B – he was next in line

The Warren Commission – the federal narrative

Just another smokescreen lie

Come save us Elvis and The Beatles

Let’s put a man on the moon

As Bobby and Martin lay in their graves

Vietnam would not end too soon

Sexual liberation and a freed libido

Grew further with Roe vs. Wade

With wiretapping, we said our farewell

To Tricky Dick and Watergate

Disco Duck, a Me Generation

Followed by AIDS and cold war

Communism collapse, tear down that wall

Let’s see what comes from an open door

OJ gets chased down the freeway

Race tensions – will they ever cease?

The 1990s saw relative productivity

But will there be lasting peace?

Rumblings in early morning September

Is this a movie, a newscast error?

Two twins crash down to the ground

On 911 in a new war on terror

A piece of paper, our founding Constitution

The slow and steady chipping away

The rise of fear and government control

In the guise of the NSA

Now fear runs the show and TV news

Either fake or otherwise

Spying, bullying and coercion

PTSD for all on the rise

While truth seekers are defamed and slimed

The one percent and corps take over

Goodbye to patriots clinging to a Republic

Goodbye to courageous whistle-blowers

Now iPhones and Smartphones lead us onward

Finding faster ways to miscommunicate

2008 gave us hope in a black president

And yet the same subjugation to the state

As the rich get even richer

And the poor get more upset

From Washington to Trump, they had one oath

To preserve, defend and protect

Keeping power with the people

Not the corrupt and controlling desire

Keeping government small and meek

Serving a will that is so ever higher

Serving a collective pursuit of happiness

Serving life, liberty and this nation

Serving these United States of America

Serving the equal and free foundation

A portrait of America

A portrait of the brave

A stand for freedom everywhere

Right here in the USA

Right here in the USA

The Heart of a Writer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my heart

broken

my heart

stolen

taken by gremlins that reside in the underbelly of society's hunger

a hunger that demands money

more and more of it

derailing me from my direction inward and skyward

my heart - the heart of a writer

knowing nothing about spreadsheets, balance sheets, financial strategy, business plans

taxed - in various ways

taxed, taken, stolen, pulled upon, pummeled, trounced, drowned

wanting only enough oxygen to be able to surrender into the soft down pillow of the creative

not resting there, not relaxing there - just being

pure

without the pull and push

without the mail that delivers another hit

taking one hit after the other, like the chin of a boxer who knows not defense

my heart

my hurting heart

pure beneath, longing within, striving to cry, voice, sing

a song grasped from that which originates inward and skyward

from my heart

free

open

the heart of a writer

Detox

Detox

Sediments of sickness

Ill feelings, grudges, resentment

Caked onto the brain

Weighing down the free flow of thoughts and emotions

Detox

Flushing out toxins

Flushing down the drain

Releasing, exiting, freeing thoughts and emotions

Fear runs into hiding

Sadness wipes tears away

Anger bellows out the cry of the night

Detox

The blockage in arteries

The caked on gunk and junk

Found in unnatural food

And your intestines and bowels

The damned-up bronchial tubes that long for oxygen flow

The tobacco stench that violates the esophagus

The physical aches and pains that originate

From the original pain found in hidden thoughts and feelings

Gone astray, gone awry

Without the wings of flight

Or the wisdom to detach, denounce, deconstruct

Detox

Are You A Communication Coward?

A "communication coward." That is the term that came to me today.

Pretty harsh word huh?  

The term has arisen from a ton of life situations I've shared with the humans on planet Earth over the last, say, 30 years. It also arose yesterday from a recent experience.

I was driving a carpool with a couple of pals. Since I was driving a considerable distance to a meeting, I asked for a favor of a few bucks to help with gas. (My tank has not been runneth over of late.) So, one of the men, privately, handed me a $5 bill, and I was plenty fine with that. I appreciated the gesture and the cash. The other gentleman, when posed the request in the car on the way home, went silent for a few moments. His next remark was a non-sequitur that was unrelated to my request. He talked about missing the carpools he shared with another pal of his.

Huh? What did that have to do with my request for some gas money?

I rode this ride out to see if he would ever bring it up again, but after we arrived back to his car, he appeared fine with just letting my request hang out there. My parting remark referenced him driving in the future, pointing to another example of compensation that would work in this situation. He mumbled something about "you know where I live" and was gone. What sort of communication was that?

In my estimation, it was just another example of what I would term the communication of a coward.

Harsh? Sure, why not? We have to do something to curb the avoidance of true communication. 

You see these "cowards" all the time now. (Or maybe you don't since their aim is to go under the radar.) They come in many forms, but each is a person who tries to communicate something by remaining mum or elusive. Instead of respectfully addressing the human being putting themselves out there, the silence is supposed to say something. And what does it say, beneath the surface? 

"I don't know what to say?" "It's awkward for me." "I'm afraid." "Listening to my fear is more important than listening to you." 

The forms taken by today's "Communication Coward" are as follows:

THE AVOIDER - This is the person who simply doesn't comment when someone has spoken, in hopes the person will no longer bring up a tough subject, as in the parting of a measly 5 bucks.

THE SELECTIVE RESPONDER - This is the person who cherry picks which e-mail, voicemail or snail mail he or she will respond to based on his or her own selfish needs. These are the types who read your e-mail with the three questions, and then only comment on the ones that serve their needs and their needs only.

THE HIDER - Similar to the "avoider," this one isn't seen at all, and basically hides out completely so as not to ever be heard from over a long period of time. This one hopes "out of sight and out of mind." The next time you see these people, the hope is that it's been so long that the subject has been forgotten. You hear these people say phrases such as "what e-mail?" and "what voicemail?" and "Are you sure that was me?"

THE SUBJECT CHANGER - Pretty self-explanatory, this person does whatever it takes to maneuver the conversation onto another topic.

THE SPINNER - This person spins the conversation so there is something wrong with you for bringing up a subject they don't want to address. Google "mindfuck."

THE BUSH BEATER - This one doesn't just come out and say it, but would rather, as the saying goes, "beat around the bush." Why not just beat the bush directly? How bad can it be?

THE CRYPTICATER - These folks cloak their conversation with odd clues and statements that are to subtly give a message ... that no one but themselves will understand.

There are countless other forms, but in the end it all comes down to the fact that these folks are cowards, afraid of being accountable, being responsible, of being at their best for the good of whatever relationship they find themselves. They actually may be most afraid of the glorious call to be in complete integrity with their true selves - a connected, honorable and centered presence of human grace. That's a tall order I imagine. But I bet they can do it. 

The cowards also may not be aware that there are other types of people out there: those who can't stand communication overlooked and discounted. Though I too have been a "communication coward" in many instances, and still falter at times, I'm more and more speaking up for respectful and direct communication.

So my next move?

Oh yeah - I will approach the gent who bypassed my earlier communication about gas money with a simple, "I noticed you didn't answer my request for gas money before. I was wondering what was going on with you." 

Cowards hate it when you do that. They count on you being a similar coward and not broach subjects that are uncomfortable. The result of such further explorations could be:

1. He breaks down and admits his fears and barriers to direct communication.
2. He just pays 3 or 5 bucks, whatever.
3. He runs away.

As a person who desires the end of "communication cowards," I would win in either case.

Diving Into Faith

Faith.

I want to dive into faith.

Into the cool, blue water that embraces me like a womb.

Safe.

Assured.

Peaceful, restful.

Originating all from faith.

Faith.

That link to something higher – pure. Like cool, blue water. 

Beyond the fear.

Beyond the stress.

Beyond the doubt.

That dreaded doubt that would laugh at my failures, even the most minute of mishaps, exclaiming, “This is the real you. This is how it will continue. This has just begun.”

Those terror remarks that rattle my sense of self, and implode my inner core, like strategically placed detonations in old, creaky building.

Blueprints with plans to ruin me at every turn.

If not for…

If not for…

Faith.

The knowing that these shadows are temporary, only existing because some fiend has blocked the Sun … for a moment.

Faith – the keen and clear awareness that the Sun does assuredly exist behind all shadows.

The Sun – the source.

The source of heat, warmth and life.

Creating a glimmering reflection off the cool, blue water.

Forever.

No matter the frightful remarks from a mind bent on destruction.

Forever.

In faith - in life.

In life.

That which exists in every breath into lungs.

Filling and emptying, filling and emptying.

When observed, taking us infinitely deeper into the truth that will free us.

To love.

To faith.

To faith.

My Momma Will Walk Again

I wrote this in February 2013 prior to my mother's passing when she was still bed-ridden. She passed in July 2014, into the freedom beyond the physical. 

I silently watch as my mother rests in her bed

Made to soothe and comfort, and lift her when need be
It makes it easier on her hip and her head

It makes it easier on her suffering knees

I quietly watch in agony believing she's never coming back
I find no words to speak, there's no place to hide
Invisible enemies of the past I plan to attack
Then surrender to the loss and the longing inside

I know it's not the start
I pray it's not the end
In dream-scapes and within my heart
My momma will walk again

My mother will stand up and walk once more
She'll effortlessly glide from room to room
She'll walk towards and then out that front door
She'll marvel again at the stars, the Sun, the Moon

She may even skip or dance or run for a bit
She'll be able to plant flowers in her own garden
Then … in its splendor … simply kneel down and sit
Yes, my momma will walk again

I know it's not the start
I pray it's not the end
In dream-scapes and within heaven's heart
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again

Beyond the polarities of the loss and the win
Beyond the cruelties of sickness and sin
Beyond the conversations we never did begin

Beyond the missed celebrations that should have been

Beyond the pain that all of us are in

In the peace and love found only within
In God's sweet embrace of an eternal heaven
In a timeless dream-state I long to live in
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again

 


Jim Ellis and his writings can be found here:  http://legacyproductions.org/products/
 

The Promise of Crowns and Bloom

Shadows cast by cemetery trees

A shallow chill breeze reaches bone

We shake uncontrollably

The sense of being alone, and then followed

By a figure unknown to all

We fall, as we struggle to run away

A deadly delay, as in a film’s chaotic music blaring

Someone is staring at us, the end rapidly coming soon

So far from … the promise of crowns and bloom

The promise of crowns and bloom

Coins and dollars fall through the cracks

A weekly attack of envelopes and bills

We are filled with lack and emptiness

The treadmill, incessant and relentless, moves

And moves

Time, money and hope we lose

The pace slows, drags and then quickens

We are sickened by the stomach ache

For God’s sake, will relief and respite arrive soon?

In a promise of crowns and bloom

The promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise was there at the very start

    When once upon a time there was only a heart

    And clouds and sky that ruled from above

    Guiding with a graceful hand of love

    The shining of the sun off the surface of the moon

    And the ever-present promise of crowns and bloom

 

But now as grown-ups we sense the dread

Of the dead, and dying, and those with disease

Begging please – show us a path beyond all of this

A hug, a kiss, an embrace of family with friendly face

The glory of a crown worn only by a winner

Not sinners whose loss they are never without

A shout, a cheer for the truth we hold dear

The dropping of a tear, down the cheek of the humble

Beyond the crumbling hope, a flowering blossom boon

Here to fulfill the promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise was there at the very start

    When once upon a time there was only a heart

    And clouds and sky that ruled from above

    Guiding with a graceful hand of love

    It has never altered in the eons of time

    Found in the reflection of the caring and kind

    Do not forgo or forget what is true

    The unseen crown that you wear and the light within you

    The dawn after dark, it will be here so very soon

    Hark, you will see – the promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise of crowns and bloom

JAE - Copyright  © 2017

The Loss of Innocence ... and the Pop-Tarts

We all have those moments. Those heartbreaking times when innocence is all but lost.

• Those first moments when mom and dad somehow stopped being two perfect people. 
• The times when the belief in Santa Claus became something for kids.    
• The loss of that first family cat or dog.  
• The curtain being moved aside to reveal the small man wizard, in so many different ways.
• The heartbreak of the first girlfriend or boyfriend ... and their untimely farewell.
• The first lawsuit when you knew you did nothing wrong. 

And for me ... the stolen Pop-Tarts.

Man, those Pop-Tarts. I know there were a bunch of kinds, such as blueberry and strawberry, but I loved the chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts. Remember those? I didn't even need them toasted, just thrown into my lunch bag so I could enjoy those treats at lunchtime. The way to eat them, for me, was to pick at the outer crust and then start in on the fudge interior. I didn't care about the 7 essential vitamins. I just wanted the chocolate, and the snack.

That's why the one day in second grade was so disheartening. I had brought my lunch bag to school as I had done for the entire year. Sandwich and chips in there, courtesy of mom. And the big treat was the Pop-Tart. And as always before class, in the early morning, all the kids put their lunch bags down at the side wall near the entrance to the classroom. I recall this one day, Rusty was asking me if I had brought a Pop-Tart or not. I didn't know why he was so interested in that.

After running around on the playground for a bit before class started, I went to my lunch bag. I picked it up. And it appeared lighter. I looked inside, and my chocolate Pop-Tart was gone. I was crushed. Who would take my Pop-Tart? How could this happen? I questioned Rusty in one of those weird ways where you try to have them admit to something but you don't know how. Looking back, why the hell is an 8-year-old having to do such maneuvering and positioning? How sad is that? 

Loss is sad.
Having something taken from you is heartbreaking.
Life can hurt.  
 
In the late 1970's Bruce Springsteen sung of broken dreams and the loss of innocence, as his unbridled joy of recording and performing was thwarted through a lawsuit brought by his previous manager Mike Appel. His song "The Promise" pointed to such brokenness.

The promise is broken, you go on living
It steals something from down in your soul
When the truth is spoken, it don't make no difference
Something in your heart goes cold

Now, no doubt, I make the story lighthearted with the tale of a Pop-Tart. But it doesn't matter when it happens. Or how it happens. Or even why. It just happens. Life comes along, with its deadbeat dudes and gals, who don't know any better. And they want to steal something from you. And whether it's a dream of Santa, a home, a job, a spouse or a simple childhood treat, the key to dealing with loss is to not let it steal your joy, your enthusiasm or your innocence.

For after all the curtains are pulled aside, to reveal every crazy and fake Wizard of Oz, we will stand in truth knowing we can never truly lose the love, the light and the innocence that is our birthright. And who knows? Maybe after that awakening, we can be treated to have returned to us those things that truly matter to us in the end.

Such as, yes you know it ...

James Anthony Ellis is a writer living in San Diego. He can be reached at www.LegacyProductions.org. 

Emily and I Loving the Devil

Memories pop in at the most interesting times. And often they come in for a reason.

Today it's the memory of an 8-year-old niece Emily and her Uncle Jim, me, driving in my car somewhere, from here to there, and the short conversation that could be had between two relatives interested in reaching something meaningful. It was 1990.

Now some backstory...

My life SUCKS lately. It's 2017, and I have been through the ringer, full of anxiety in a life where people appear to enjoy the idea of leveraging some sort of advantage in order to feel better than and more powerful than others. The capitalistic dream right? Or is it a nightmare? In either case, I've been down when experiencing either side of the coin - believing I have power because I have the leverage over another or completely upset believing another has leverage over me.

What can I do to get free of this vicious cycle?

Perhaps it's that very question that led me to the memory of a story that took place some 27 years ago.

For there we were - me and Emily out on the road. Me making some lighthearted chat and her playing along. In those days, I was deeply engaged in the process of healing, actively removing inner blocks and unresolved emotions in order to find the light and the love within. So it wasn't too far of a stretch for me to play this game with Emily...

• Jim: Hey - let's play a game and see how many people we can think of to love.
• Emily: What do you mean? How would we play it?
• Jim: Every person we see as we drive, we can say we love them, even if we don't know them.
• Emily: What? 
• Jim: Here, let's start. I see those two people walking. Love two! There are three people in that other car. Love three!
• Emily: Oh. Another walker. Love one!!!
• Jim:  Love four.
• Emily:  Love three!
• Jim: Love two!
• Emily: Hey, I saw them first.

The game went on a bit, as we competed to see who could love more people and get to them before the other one. At some point, I said it was possible to love everyone in the world. This sort of confused the young one.

"What about the devil? Do you love the devil?"

Hmmm, that was a good question. What popped in my mind at the time came tumbling out. "Well, someone has to. He might need it more than anyone else."



Again confusion. But that was OK. It was just a game. Kinda like life is just a game. Can we come to realize that it is a game? Can we see that we have full power to send an unlimited amount of love, from a source that becomes more illumined the more we tap into it?

With such a belief, a standpoint that we can give without worry of return, there is no room for a passive bystander, no place for victim, no us and them, no leverage, no control - just our powerful choice to act upon a heart open and willing to love. Why not? What else can an innocent being do, one that lives beyond right and wrong, and one who mainly knows a divine instinct to give from the very essence of who they are?

Leverage over another? No thanks. That would be somewhat, shall we say, evil? Love the devil? Sure, it can only help. Rekindle the memory of a story of two relatives on a fun drive focusing on the love we can share with everyone?

In this day and age ... a must.

James Anthony Ellis is an award-winning writer living in San Diego. He can be loved - er reached - at www.LegacyProductions.org.