Ever so alone in the world
years into days,
days on end a blur.
Time to dig the earth
find the roots of torment
as people weave within,
rattle my soul.
How does one understand truth? Truth was set in stone long ago. The greatest of commands, to love. Peace of mind blooms with watered intentions of serving others. Do not murder. Do not plant false lies. Do not appear as love with malice for others in your heart. Find your sixth sense and do not be fooled easily.
Often when we are hurt, our initial reaction is retaliation. The anger burns hot inside. Emotional self-discipline circumvents such reactions. I consider myself in-training. To find strength a cure.
Being honest but peaceful and forgiving paves a long road home with hope. Sometimes walking away, when possible, is best. Remembering to breathe.
Well… you and i made it to experience another year on earth. I hope the approaching 365 days is good to you… full to the brim with positive thoughts, new adventures, reinforced friendships, old and new, with plenty of time spent writing and working on your craft. Or perhaps experimenting with a new method of expressing yourself. In short, here is to a creative 2019 of souling!
i am spending a significant portion of my morning on social media because, well, i have been stimulated. Which basically means my brain is cooking up ideas and piling up future projects, while a myriad of unfinished projects patiently weep… waiting for me.
“Off on another excursion, yet again! Are you?” my conscious is seething.
I found a new place to contemplate, meditate, evaluate and prescribe healing into my life. Isn’t it breathtakingly beautiful?
Here is my latest blast from my soul…
Learn to take the heart ache and make love soar… not for fame or fortune. Rather, love is more precious than gold. It mends differences and brings the world a peace unlike any other emotion.
Even those who purport not to have sold their soul have become slaves. Wisdom rarely prevails and minds change with every wind direction.
This is equally tragic as 9/11. The voices of those dead in Chicago cry out for us to take action. How do we react? We dissect each tragedy and look for blame. Is there blame? On who or what? Scholars divide the problem into money, race and gender. But i say the problem is time, compassion and heart. We are too busy to listen to the kids in first grade who open up and tell about their life.
Once trust is earned, the problems surface. These children are calling out for help.
The little child tells me he will never make his momma sad and be like his older brother. He wants to read and learn. But then he enters sixth grade and they bully him into submission. Take his backpack and books and call him shame. “Shame on you for listening to whitey! They hate you. Dont you remember?” Those words echo in his head and dig into his heart. I scream in a whisper. “I care. I am white. So what? Can you not see my heart. It beats for every death you celebrate. Every life you snuff out.”
To the kids i knew at School on Wheels. I hope someday we hug in heaven. ❤️❤️❤️ Or even better we run into each other some where in this world!
A new experience presented itself within a community to celebrate positive energy. This was most of the group’s first time being together. The hour started with rhythmic drum beats mimicking the heart’s life force.
There were 15 of us, each with a drum and another percussion instrument. This video is the third of four sets, each naturally lasting between 12-13 minutes. The group leaders did little to manipulate each interval of creative expression. They flowed as swiftly and gently, or vigorously and bountifully, as the Nashua River, deep in the Valley of Oxbow.
As the hour progressed, a golden hue encompassed us. We said farewell to the sun. Then to each other. Look forward to another drum circle September 12.
Where to start? It is as if my life is being lived in one day… with no way to slow down. Juggling between need-to-do and want-to-do and compromising. All this beauty is descending upon my head in rocket speed… the town i have moved to is bursting at the seems with poetry and dance.
Harvard MA was home to the Alcott’s and other Transcendentalists who started a Utopian Society at Fruitlands. I am in love with the philosophy.
All matters of life are to be sipped here.
I am gulping… famished from years of neglect. I am bathing in this community and coming alive.