Reaching for the Divine

Yesterday, whilst awaiting a pedestrian light,

  I saw an aged man adorned in plaid and grace.

  At once, I felt the presence of strength, security.

  I yearned to be a child, happy, safe in his embrace.

On the heels of my mind's startling sojourn, I heard,

  'That which you most desire, you shall find in yourself.'

  Abashed at my archetypal reaction to a total stranger,

  the words reverberating throughout my soul, I drove on.

Reflecting that people over the eons reach for the divine.

  Universal penchant to search everywhere but in ourselves.

  Submitting to dogmas, rites, imperatives decreed by others.

  At the end of the day, the yearning in one’s soul never sated.

‘What if,’ asks Spirit, ‘the divine you seek is inside of you, is you?

  Grant that the hand to which you reach is your own, your divinity.

  You have searched, prostrate yourself to them, obeyed their provisos.

  Consider, what if divinity is a sphere, spiraling always inward to you?’

‘When at last you reach inside, you will discover your divinity, Me.

  Spirit explains, ‘If the hand of divinity you seek is truly your own, 

  you create tomorrow, forge beauty from malice, are the pulse of love.

  Hear my words, that which you most desire, you shall find in yourself.’

The Hogwash of Choice

‘Why do you constantly harangue me with the hogwash of choice?’

‘Because it is your choice.  All of it.  It is your choice, not mine.

  They would have you believe your life is not your choice, for

  it empowers them to force their ambitions onto your being.’

‘But they promise to take care of me, redress my problems.

  God knows I have failed miserably, no matter my efforts.

  All they ask is that I trust and consent to their edicts.’

‘Is that your image then, of your life of love and effort,

  that you are trivial, powerless, a consummate failure?

  Have you forgotten that I created perfection in you?’

‘You are utterly mistaken.  Everything I attempted,

  all of it for naught!  My lot worsens every day.

  How dare you judge me?  I just want to live!’

‘This is why you give them control over your life?’

‘There is no other way but for them to administer it.

  No more worries, no more struggling just to stay alive.

  Now finally I can relax and delight in what life remains.’

‘You understand, don’t you, that you are making a choice.'

‘Yes, but what is one choice compared to a life of decisions?

  Leave me alone. Bother some other soul with your nonsense.’

‘And, so it is.  I gifted you absolute freewill, the power to create.

  I will not violate this sacred gift nor the promise I make to you.

  I will stand forever by your side as you create the world to come.’

Liminal Space

The Future Unfolding

As campaigns materialize into form,
  loyalists line up to spread their filth,
  believers hungrily await the dawning.

Those othered fear for their lives, terror.

The dawn of hate and brutality celebrated.
  A vicious phantasm slumps onto humanity.
  Wildfire, blind to prejudice, will destroy all.

Liminal Space

There is a space between now and then.

It dwells not only in time, also in our souls.
  It is transcendent, sublime, knows eternity.
  In the space is the promise of the forgotten.

Breathe deeply, let go your panic, hate, angst.
  For just one minute, behold the liminal space
  living inside yourself, bridging now to eternity.

Therein you will feel tranquility, stillness, peace.
  Sustained by chi, touching once again the Holy.
  Feeling your lifeforce, your answers uncovered.

Step now into the din, remembering the treasure,
  gifted to you alone and forever yours, despite all.
  Resplendent, gifting respite, repose, wisdom, life.

The Space In-Between

18 October 2012

'I am the space in-between.
  Look carefully.
  You see?

Here I Am.

Always there, here.
  Can you feel?

I feel your fear.
  I see the veil; fear clouds your vision.
  I love you.

 

You learned in physics, did you not,
  that the space in-between is vast,
  greater than the material forms I created from this space;
  that the material forms, too, are mostly the space in-between.

My child,
  that space in-between
  is not empty.

It is the all of life;
  It is the chi;
  It is the source.

It is the vibration in your body.
  It is the energy rushing through your hands.'

 

The Unknown.

  The Source.

  The Holy.

'There...
  There am I.
  There I AM.'

The Energy, You

Streaming into your head, flowing through your body.

  The breath of life rising and falling, animating life.

  Feel it saturating your frame, exciting every cell.

A gentle, steady, constant hum.  There, feel it?

  It will transform you if you embrace, allow it.

  It transmits memories of your infinite being.

Unaware the constant companion, energy.

  Inundated by it, everywhere, everyone.

  Ship without sail, cast about by storms.

Every thought, every emotion; energy.

  You the artiste; life, yours to create.

  Your paintbrush, your life choices.

Set your sail; find your true north.

  Chart your path; live mindfully.

  Every thought, every emotion.

Sanguine

Two words characterize the White Wolf Woman,

  give voice to feelings residing deep within me,

  govern my response to the anarchy set loose

  to destroy everything presumed sacrosanct.

Sanguinity - optimistic, complacent, oblivious.

  Yes, one might reason that my countenance

  reflects my naïveté, indifference, lethargy.

  Yet there is untold depth to this narrative.

Practicing self-awareness, evaluating for

  proof I succumbed to spiritual bypass,

  employing spiritual rationalizations

  to evade and hide from the reality.

No

A phenomenon entirely different.

  It heralds a reality enveloping

  and surpassing the tempest.

  That alone stirs sanguinity.

Equanimity  - mental, emotional equilibrium,

  stability, notably when experiencing stress.

  Even as the storm foments into a tempest

  a profound quietude alights in my heart,

  galvanized by the advancing tempest.

There is no accident to this unfolding.

  White Wolf Woman now awakened,

  emancipates the gifts native to me,

  liberated at last to gift back to life.

Poised, the threshold of tomorrow,

  ready to live the time for which

  I was born, to gift what I may,

  Sanguinity, equanimity, all.

A Soul's Journey

Homecoming

Dear beloved, blessed child!

  Your homecoming; auspicious!

  You bequeathed me equanimity,

  courage, strength and composure.

Did you come on your mother’s hand?!

  Standing by you, her warm smile shining.

  Yes, she did find you and bring you home.

  Our resplendent, grand, cherished mother!

The girls come out to meet you and our mom.

  Their exhilaration is irrepressible, triumphant.

  I watch them, my heart swelling; ecstasy, love.

White Wolf Woman at my side, watching serenely.

  Her wisdom flows through me, fills my heart, mind.

  We are whole, in the wake of a lifetime of separation.

What words to mark the ineffable, remarkable moment?

This Life Designed

The children dancing, melting in and out of the other.

  The blue mist settles over me, gifting sight of the All.

  My mother, father, me; bridge spanning now to infinity.

Surrounded by angels and souls eager to journey with me.

  Dreaming my life; visualizing, considering the possibilities.

  The path chosen; souls promise gifts, choose roles, prepare.

Incredulous about the role my father chose, the gift he offers.

  To elicit the most brutal pain, ordained to weave through time,

  pain that defines the entirety of my story, the sweep of my life.

My father offered to tear my soul apart; steal and hide my essence,

  leaving behind an awareness of something absent but unreachable,

  creating an emptiness he knew would be filled with years of self-hate.

My mother moved to hold us as he embarked upon his heartbreaking task.

  And they both pled that they be allowed to gift me the love, light and faith

  that would carry me through the travails and remind me of who I always was.

Soul Loss

His work to tear apart my soul began

  when my voice and will proved strong.

  He asked the baby to leave; she yielded.

Extracting her essence from my soul; gone.

  His first unspeakable act of love complete.

  The bereft father sobbed; baby whimpered.

Thrice more, his horrific appeal to his daughter.

  Thrice more, her unquestioning response, ‘yes’.

  Stripping her soul of the essences that made her.

Equanimity, courage, strength, creative innocence, 

  voice, the will to be heard, composure, all gifts she

  readily surrendered at her beloved father’s entreaty.

Each loss enlarged the hole inside my soul; emptiness.

  Life ensued; the emptiness displaced by self-loathing.

  My soul fractured.  Me, a pariah; an odious, horrid scar.

Proficient at self-abasement, I banished my core essence.

Maestros and Helping Spirits

Never alone on this journey, 

  especially when life shattered, 

  carnage everywhere, suffocating.

White Wolf Woman revealed herself,

  my tranquil, silent, enigmatic familiar.

  By her side and now mine, White Wolf.

Many followed, each offering unique gifts,

  cradling and cherishing my shattered self,

  sustaining the bonds to my soul’s essence.

Years past, collecting tormentors to my side.

  Bewildered, but learning to stand up for me.

  The dawning realization that I brought them.

Angels appeared, many in human form;  Fungai

  recounted my father’s story; the thread to mine.

  Thus begun, unraveling the coil into my 64th year.

Spirit breathes, ‘It is time to remember, take my hand.’

The artist rendering my life interlaced with my father.

  Memories, recast with divine vision, hasten epiphanies.

  Dânêl, my teacher, guide, Maestro, conducts the exposé.

Dânêl, ‘Zoë, it is time to reclaim your power from your father.’

  A battle for my soul ensues; my father lost in his role, resists.

  I wrestle with my beloved for my power, claim my sovereignty.

Calling Back My Soul

White Wolf Woman, long with me, yet silent, incomprehensible.

  Dânêl beckons her; she whispers and words flow onto the page.

  Then the remarkable revelation; she is my soul, my core essence.

Dânêl blows her essence into my soul; I am incredulous, awakening.

Two more journeys reaching into forever, inviting my essences home.

  The girls return, a baby, a 9-year-old, an 11-year-old, wary, courageous.

  Reunited; exhilaration, reverence, gifts re-integrating, blessed moment.

Re-Integration

  Epiphanies continue, illuminating abundant blessings.

  My Father

  He agreed to dismember my soul and send me away.

    He knew the agony, suffering, loss it would cause,

    but he loved me so dearly that he offered to steal

    my soul so that I might learn these sacred lessons.

  Then he lay prostrate to the children he sent away,

    bore my anger, mourned my grief, held me always, 

    even as I fought him to take back the power that he 

    risked everything to conceal and protect me from.

  Such an incredible gift you gave to me, my dear father.

    I see it all now.  I adore and love you with all that I am.

    I thank you for the most sacred gift you could give me.

    I am ready now to gift it all back to life, you at my side.

  My Ancestors

  Of late, I met my ancestors, including a Shaman, Martha.

    I was happy yet curious about their elation to meet me.

  Martha joined my spirit helpers to conduct soul retrievals.

    Then I learned that they all played vital roles in my story.

  As their faces appeared through the mist, I remembered.

    There on the bridge; their gift, love, harbor the children.

  My father entrusted each child into their loving sanctuary. 

    Now I understood their elation to meet me; it had begun.

  Martha helped to reunite us, making me whole once again.

    She journeys forth with me, imparting her Shamanic gifts.

There is so much more…

Predestination & Free Will, Both

 An epiphany explodes into my astonished mind, gifted by spirit. 

  There truly is predestination; and there is absolute free will; both.

  We are the authors of our life stories, from inception to completion.

All the events of our lives, designed by us to grant the gifts we seek.

  Every response, every decision, every action, entirely ours to make.

  We the creators, the created. The creation, our precious life story.

Before the Wind

 Stillness, silence…
  Gazing across, turning slowly.
  Rocks fall from mountains
  that do not breath.

Crashing to earth,
  the sound is absorbed by
  the rock pile, the earth.
  Now forever gone.

Stillness, silence…
  Gazing across, turning slowly.
  Only languid mountains
  and inert rock piles.

Dim memories…
  Reflections of movement.
  Sensing vibrations.
  Feeling sound.

Memories vanish…
  tumbling into the fissure
  of nonexistence.
  The abyss.

Feel now your chest.
  Motionless, frozen, always.
  Crushing pressure.
  Gasping for...

Life.

After the Wind

Élan Vital.

  Forebearer of life; the lifeforce.

  Enveloped in gravity’s sway,

  metamorphosing into

  earth’s heartbeat.

Earth pulsing,

  resounding across the cosmos,

  vibration forming sound,

  fashioning the ether.

  Earth breathes.

The dance.

  Earth keeping the heartbeat.

  Élan Vital pirouetting.

  Swirling ever faster,

  birthing wind.

Élan Vital creates.

  Borne on the wings of wind,

  Élan Vital kisses the sky

  creating water, heavy,

  falling to earth.

The earth breathes.

  Rivers flow, oceans swell,

  fomenting, animating.

  The wellspring of

  Life.

Feel now your chest.

  Gentle steady heartbeat.

  Chi filling your lungs. 

  Élan Vital, your life.

  Breathe.

Never let fear

  steal your breath.

  It is your birthright,

  the gift of life, itself.

  Breathe through it all.

The Peace that Passes Understanding

My beloved mother.

  This night was brutal.

  Ever burned on my heart.

The moments wherein the

  dark strove to swallow time;

  lonely, excruciating, terrible.

Dad rested in his bed, finally.

  You slumped in your chair,

  depleted from the effort

  of dying.

Me, as close to you as possible,

  holding your head, holding you.

  Devastated in the black silence

  that threatened to defeat light.

That year, I had held vigil

  so many long, lonely nights,

  weeping, waiting, wondering.

This night, I bore witness

  while you slipped away.

  Every moment, at once

  unbearable and sacred.

In the dark, I prayed that I

  might be gifted a glimpse of the

  peace that passes understanding

  which I knew would soon be yours.

Just hours later,

  as I watched you cross the bridge,

  the peace that passes understanding

  flooded my soul, washed over my heart.

This sweet gift of grace was remarkable.

  It caught my breath and enfolded me

  in a singular, extraordinary moment

  that remains inimitable in my life.

In that hallowed moment

  as you beheld heaven,

  God stirred my soul.

I love you, my dear mother.

  My love for you, endless.

  I will never forget, never.

Are We the Answer to Our Prayers?

from 5 November 2010

Another night of Kundalini energy.

  Woke me in the dark of the night 

  when it exploded out of my head.

It carried a dream and a message.

  'Create an intentional community of love.'

  Over and again, I heard this message.  

I immediately started analyzing it, 

  surveying the many ways we have 

  created community, and the countless

  times we took it apart when we found it.  

Despite our highest intentions, 

  we can’t escape our humanness, 

  the fears that capture us and the

  illusions we label rational thought.

But perhaps despite, or even

  because of, our fallibilities

  we can create community.

This community is not bound

  by geography, culture or religion.

It is bound by a singular commitment

  to shine the light of love on darkness. 

It is worldwide. 

Imagine the light emanating

  from millions of people, shining

  on the darkness we have created.

We illuminate our own darkness.

We ARE the answer.

What Shall You Create?

Jackie awoke with a start, the nightmare playing on her mind and dancing as shadows on the walls of her room.  Her bed was warm, cozy and soft, her room spacious and filled with things she had gathered over so many years.

She heard the whispers of staff in the hallways, the labored breathing of the man next door and the steady pulse of the grandfather clock in the dining room.  So many people here, living, working, visiting.  But she was alone in that room…in her life.

Gazing into the gray eventide of her room, Jackie felt the gray melting into her soul, washing away the color and vibrancy she now only faintly remembered.  Glimpsing the vanishing color, she vaguely wondered, ‘Where did that come from?  Did I see, feel, taste color…ever?’  Falling again into restless, unfulfilled sleep…

‘Jackie,’ she heard.  ‘Jackie,’ again, faintly.  Turning in her sleep to see who called.  ‘Jackie’, again, closer.  Catching her breath, but unable to open her eyes, trapped in a deep sleep.

Once again, ‘Jackie’. 

Suddenly, she was in the clouds, white/gray, billowing softness…everywhere.  Bright and vivid.  She felt goosebumps raising on her skin, felt her toes and fingers retracting from the cold.  ‘The cold?  What cold?’  Looking down, she saw her nightgown, descending to her bare feet, her toes turning red.  Lifting her hand, turning it, bending her fingers…  They too were ruddy.  And then she realized she was standing.  A faraway place in her mind screamed in warning, ‘You can’t stand!  You are going to fall!’

Yet there she was standing, in her nightgown, with cold fingers and toes and goosebumps racing up and down her spine. 

Again, ‘Jackie’. 

Startled, she looked up, saw the clouds, felt their moist cold touch on her body, and realized she was not standing at all.  She was….floating?  The voice in the back of her mind screamed, ‘Oh my god!  What is happening?!  Wake up!  Wake up!’  But the louder it screamed, the further away it moved, until she could no longer hear it.  She opened her mouth to speak, but only air escaped.  Her voice had been stolen.

Now fear began to rise as bile in her throat, clenching every muscle, spreading its menace throughout her body.  It warned of danger, told her to run, hide, escape.  Yet when she tried to raise her foot, nothing happened.  The fear careened into her mind, flooding it with nightmares, exploding, sizzling, burning.  Yet still she could not move.  Nor could she scream.

‘Jackie.’

Now the voice materialized in front of her, carried by a blue mist, drifting, weaving in and around itself, presenting now as the faint outline of a woman, now an angel, now a wolf…  Mesmerized, Jackie watched reality fold in on itself, creating something new every time it opened up once again.

She reached out to touch it, felt the energy swirling around her finger, felt it awakening the energy in her, felt the magnetism of it pulling her soul.  She pulled her finger back and saw it transformed into brilliant white light.  It shone like a star from her hand.  And the blue mist danced.

Now the blue mist formed into a long shimmering coil and began encircling her, first slowly, then picking up speed until it became a blur of blue mist surrounding her.  Wherever it touched her, she lit up like a star.  Soon there were a multitude of rays shooting out from her, brilliant white light.  The rays merged with the blue mist, creating bursts of color. 

The blue mist reached into her and gently touched the fear.  Without ado, the fear melted into the mist, leaving behind white light that flowed through her, spreading peace and serenity where fear had once reigned.

‘There are two emotions,’ shared the mist, ‘fear and love.  You get to choose which shall color your life.’

And then a memory filled Jackie’s mind.  A child of six was holding a telescope, given as a present with the promise that it would show her the wonders of the world.  Attached to it was a strap so that she could carry the telescope with her wherever she went.

Ten years later, the child, now 16, carried the telescope everywhere.  She no longer viewed life through her own eyes, only through the telescope, for the telescope held all the truths she would ever need.

Another ten years passed, 26, another ten, now 36, now 46, now 56…all gone in an instant.  And there she stood, confident and clear in her understanding of life and the world, drawing all her decisions and conclusions from her telescopic view.

Jackie watched the scenes unfold, proud of her accomplishment, proud of her refined view of life.

And then, the mist showed her the view through the telescope.  The world was narrow, circumscribed, with nary a peripheral image.   It was oddly gray, delimited by black contours bearing no dimensions. 

Startled she pulled back from the telescope and experienced the wonder of the reality she now witnessed.  Light, color, dimension, depth reaching into forever, complexity, dynamism, all the stages of life and death unfolding simultaneously…

And then she saw the old woman, lying in the dark room, alone, surrounded by things that kept life in place and erased the unpredictability with a vacuous, unmoving certainty.

An emptiness filled her chest, pressing down, pulling the breath from her.  And darkness flooded her soul, a cold, biting, unforgiving, angry, fearful dark.

Falling to her knees, Jackie wept, felt herself plunging from that sacred place back into the hollow of that room and her life…

And then she felt a hand under her, enveloping her in love and light, preventing her fall into darkness.  She felt the light saturating her body and soul once again.  She felt life such as she hadn’t felt since that day the present of limited vision arrived.

Reaching for the tether around her neck, she lifted it from her and handed the telescope to the blue mist.  The telescope turned fiery red.  Jackie could hear it screaming, ‘Wait!  I know!  Only I know the truth!  You must listen to me or die!’

But it couldn’t resist the light and love flowing through the blue mist.  Jackie watched as the blue mist transformed it into energy and then infused it with white light and love, its essence transfigured.

Jackie opened her eyes to see the morning sun peeking through her shades, sparkling on the walls.  A kaleidoscope of colors leapt up to greet her.  Life called to her from the halls, beckoning her to perceive it with her new vision.

Entering the dining room, she felt the life stories of all around her, saw their dreams and pain, their futures and past, the possibilities of their today and the hopes of their tomorrows.  She saw the complexities, the mystery, the unknowns of life.  The colors danced in and out, creating contours, blending possibility with vision, creating, creating, creating…what?

‘What would you like to create?’ the blue mist asks you.  

‘I gift you a panoramic view, the ability to see so many perspectives, so many dimensions.  Yes, it can be confusing, and complex and feel chaotic.  But it is also everything, all.  It is the fodder from which you can create...anything.  You can see the different perspectives.  You can learn to understand one who carries that different perspective.  You can learn to love and create, accept and honor all of it.'

'I gift you all of this.  And I gift you the freedom to decide.  The telescope is there if you want it.  And the wild mystery is there if you want it.  Just know that whatever you decide, I will walk with you, always.'

What is your choice, what shall you create?

Reclaim Our Minds

My father was right.

He watched patiently as 

  my preteen self defended

  my right to see R-rated movies.

Then gently repeating himself,

  'Whatever you put into your head

  will shape your beliefs and thoughts.'

His wisdom totally escaped me then.

  But I get it now, so many years hence.

  He protected my mind so I could choose.

An open mind cleared space for me to learn.

  I could see the sacred, find wisdom, imagine

  the impossible and materialize it into this life.

His wisdom travels through the universe again,

  seeking any who choose to shelter sacred space

  in their minds from the chaos erupting around us.

The chaos is growing, breeding anarchy in society,

  cramming our minds with incomprehensible stories,

  stealing the sacred space wherein our wisdom dwells.

Resistance to the chaos starts first in our own minds.

  It starts by consciously clearing space in our minds for

  our own thoughts and wisdom to form and be nurtured.

The strategies to clear and open one's mind are manifold.

  Select one, make it a practice, clear chaos from your mind.

  Make space to find therein your sacred wisdom and truths.

Be Still

The cacophony.

It's shrill tone echoes,

  ricochetting, recoiling,

  erupting, over and again

  into the still, calm cosmos.

Terror, hate, frenzy, indignation.

  All rival for repute, or to simply

  weep in disillusionment and fury.

Emotions and thoughts are energy.

  When combined, energy coalesces

  and gives birth to substance, matter.

‘What,’ Spirit queries, ‘are you creating?

  A cloud swells in the soul of humanity,

  seething and nurtured by the cacophony.’

Lost, bitter in the cacophony of our making

  we cry, ‘We are lost, dying! Don’t you care?!

 There is no way out! Please save us!’ we beg.

Smiling, ‘Have you forgotten?  You created this.

  You were created creators. You still are creators.

  Create now something extraordinary and life-giving.’

‘What? We can't create?! You propose the impossible!’

‘Be still,’ Spirit whispers.

‘What?!’ the masses cry.

‘Be still.

  Quiet your minds,

  calm your emotions,

  for one sacred moment.’

A gentle wind moves across the people,

  Humanity breathes in deeply, as one.

  The breath of life quiets the rancor,

  stills broken hearts, racing minds.

Tears of humanity flow, cleansing,

   unfurling, releasing, reminding

  all of our sacred design, love.

‘Be still.  Remember.  Create

  love, only and always.’

Words of Wisdom Sing Out from Our Past

 

Buffalo Springfield

There's something happening here
But what it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it's time we stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

What a field day for the heat (Ooh ooh ooh)
A thousand people in the street (Ooh ooh ooh)
Singing songs and they carrying signs (Ooh ooh ooh)
Mostly say, "Hooray for our side" (Ooh ooh ooh)

It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step out of line, the men come and take you away

We better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

You better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

You better stop
Now, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

You better stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?

The Headliner

For me, the headliner is no longer

  who we chose to fire the cannon.

  Any person with a mind deranged

  by a barren soul can light the fuse.

For me, the headliner is how we

  step back from the abyss of fear

  and back into the promise of love.

Stay Centered

 So what does it mean, ‘stay centered’?

  It seems an essential contemplation;

  its teachings, the answer to anarchy.

In the past five years, people have been

  encircled by a Carnival of Obfuscation;

  routing their minds, its singular design.

This carnival now boils in rage as a battle

  for the soul of our nation, and crucially,

  for the hearts and souls of our people.

This Carnival of Obfuscation is brilliant.

  And when melded with intimidation, it

  yields a people devoid of discernment.

Hence the imperative to ‘stay centered’.

Our hope, our promise, all our answers

  dwell in our souls; are our very being!

  They await our recognition, our belief.

The winds of obfuscation will be blown

  into tempests wreaking cruel mayhem.

  Their purpose is to obliterate our truth.

Remember always, they cannot twist

  the truths we carry inside our souls.

  Seek your truth in your soul; hold it.

Our Treasure - The Path Forward

I have been contemplating

  how I will live in these times. 

  Flashing back to the final days

  when homelessness approached.

I felt a light within shining vibrantly. 

  I held, but could not understand, the

  twin flames of desperation and hope.

One day, I was graced with an epiphany. 

A treasure within me was revealed to me,

  of spirit that transcends this mortal frame,

  of hope that grows brighter as flesh gives way,

  of love that creates winds of chi and light of life.

I was shown our infinite nature.

  We are created from love and light.

  We are born to heal anguish with love.

  We are the hope we so desperately seek. 

Yet, we don’t look inside for our answers.

We bury our treasure in mounting debris

  of love lost, hope crushed, hearts broken.

  We conceal it in an indurate coat of armor

  impenetrable to further injury, and to love.  

Over time, it gets enveloped so completely

  we no longer see it; we don’t know it is alive.

  We don’t know the sacred life force that is us.

So, when inevitably we face our next life challenge,

  we can’t access the life force holding the resolution!

I also believe we came into this life to have experiences

  that gift us with the fodder and opportunity to discover

  the treasure within us that can heal the wounds of our life.

It is this treasure that carries the answers to the days ahead.

  It can shower hope, wisdom and love on every day of our lives.

  We must unearth our treasure from the shards of life gone awry. 

This treasure that we all hold inside our selves IS our path forward.

Never My Soul

The would-be tyrant has been ordained.

It doesn't mean that all we believe is mute.

 It doesn't mean that our efforts are useless.

Vicious actions, one upon the other, will ensue.

 Few will win, and many will lose, immeasurably.

Yet, while they can take everything, including my life,

 never can they vanquish my soul without my approval.

And I do not approve.

We Hold These Truths to be Self Evident

I still believe

We hold these truths to be self-evident,

  that all men are created equal, 

  that they are endowed by their Creator

  with certain unalienable Rights,

c

that among these are 

  Life, Liberty and the 

  Pursuit of Happiness.-- 

I believe

That to secure these rights, 

c

Governments are instituted among Men, 

 deriving their just powers from

 the consent of the governed.--

I believe

That whenever any Form of Government 

  becomes destructive of these ends, 

c

it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, 

c

and to institute new Government, 

  laying its foundation on such principles

  and organizing its powers in such form, 

c

as to them shall seem most likely to 

  effect their Safety and Happiness.--

I believe

when a long train of abuses and usurpations, 

  pursuing invariably the same Object 

  evinces a design to reduce them under 

  absolute Despotism, 

c

it is their right, it is their duty, 

c

  to throw off such Government, 

  and to provide new Guards for their future security."

United States Declaration of Independence

And I expect

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, 

  or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; 

  or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; 

  or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, 

  and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States

Love Reigns

I awoke this morning

  from a nightmare

  and realized

It is real.

Today, the pundits lunge

  like vultures on the news.

  The would-be king has now

  officially been given the reign.

This is the story we are to write.  

  We will now witness Chapter 2.

  The opening odious salvos loom.

  Who will be the initial causalities?

I feel heaviness in my heart, not fear.

  I sense myself submitting to grieving.

  I will allow it, in love, to run its course.

  And there is something else emerging.

I was born a warrior, tho not in physique.

  It's my soul, lifted on the wings of angels.

  Behind the heaviness there rests a power.

  It has been aroused; its quiescence ended.

It possesses a mighty roar, a deadly strength.

  But is shall not wield its strength as a sword.

  It shall galvanize vision, hope, determination.

  It will summon courage and the will to create.

Tho hate rains this moment, love reigns siempre.